A Study In Magic
by DoctorHarryEmrysWatson
Summary: Take one school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, add a brilliant sociopath and his loyal companion, mix in a bit of magic, Dark Lords, possible Hufflepuffs and what do you get? Answer: Chaos... and some pretty miffed Hufflepuffs. Rated T for language/ just to be safe.
1. Prologue: A Fresh Start

_**Author Note/ Disclaimer:**__**  
**I would put something amusing here but I can't be bothered... -_- [insert amusing comment that probably consists of the usual stuff]. I own nothing present in this FanFiction it belongs to two Supermegafoxyawesomehot Author, some pretty Supermegafoxyawesomehot actors (DUDE! HAVE YOU SEEN CUMBERBATCH! ^_^ )_

_****__I'd like to thank Sam for reading this for me, naming this FanFic cause I couldn't think of one (I see what you did there Sam!), fangirling with me and making some pretty awesome deductions with me :)_  
Prologue: A Fresh Start

'Ravenclaw!' The shouted word echoed around the vast, torch lit hall. The blue clad students erupted with approval as their newest addition lifted the frayed hat off of his dark curls, revealing his startling icy blue eyes. He placed the Sorting Hat neatly upon the three-legged stool. He passed around his nervous peers to the table of Ravenclaws who greeted him with applause and cheers, settling himself down a little way away from a group of grinning second year boys. He allowed his eye to wander over to the Slytherin table, where his older brother sat between two friends in small conversation.  
'Hufflepuff!' The Sorting Hat called to the Hall as Molly Hooper took it off and crossed the Great Hall to the table with the students who bore the symbol of the Badger. Ernie McMillan shortly followed Molly.  
'Longbottom, Neville.' The professor in green robes read from the list.  
'Gryffindor.' The young Ravenclaw's murmur was proved correct minutes later as the students laughed at Neville; he'd almost gone the whole way to the Gryffindor table with the hat upon his head. Then the sorting proceeded.  
'MacDougal, Isobel.'  
'Now she's obviously a Ravenclaw.'  
'Ravenclaw!'  
'MacDougal, Morag.'  
'Again, Ravenclaw.'  
'Ravenclaw!'  
The young Ravenclaw watched as "Malfoy, Draco" swaggered gracefully towards the stool.  
'Slytherin.' The young Ravenclaw muttered to himself; only to be echoed by the frayed hat two seconds later. Applause from the Slytherin table greeted Draco Malfoy as the boy with lustrous blonde hair and a pale, pointed face joined their numbers.  
'Midgen, Eloise.' The witch continued.  
'Hufflepuff.' The Ravenclaw sighed with boredom, he could've sorted the whole school a lot faster than this damned hat could sort one year group.  
'Hufflepuff!'  
'Moon, Lily.'  
'Ravenclaw.'  
'Ravenclaw!'  
'Moriarty, James.' Professor McGonagall called and a boy with dark, glossy hair who the young Ravenclaw had met on the Hogwarts Express mere hours ago approached the Sorting Hat.  
'Slytherin.' The Ravenclaw's prediction was proven correct again. As were his predictions for Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil and Sally-Ann Perks.  
'Potter, Harry.' The attention of every student and staff member intensified and the young Ravenclaw knew why. Every witch and wizard in this room who had grown up in the wizarding world would have heard the extraordinary story of Harry Potter. No doubt their friends would've filled those with muggle parents in. The tear near the brim of the Sorting Hat opened and called 'Gryffindor!' The table next to the Ravenclaws screeched louder than before. Two boys; both ginger, both identical, both very loud stood up and faced the Slytherin table with triumph upon their faces yelling 'We've got Potter!'  
The Ravenclaw boy, like so many others in the hall, craned his neck to get a glance at Harry Potter as he nervously approached the rowdy Gryffindor table and sat down opposite a girl with brown, bushy hair.  
Harry was skinny; clearly underfed. There was happiness, surprise and excitement in his eyes; he has only recently learnt about the magical world, clearly he had been living with muggles and possibly neglected… foster parents? No, they would've loved him beyond anything, as though he were one of their own… Grandparents? No, they would've cherished him… Aunt and Uncle? Definitely.  
The witch at the front with the list waited until the Gryffindors had calmed down; giving them a stern look over the top of her spectacles and continued reading the list while the Ravenclaw correctly predicted the houses Dean Thomas and Lisa Turpin were to be sorted into.  
'Watson, John.'  
'Urgh Gryffindor.'  
'Gryffindor!' The Ravenclaw smirked as the hat proved him accurate once more. He rolled his eyes and thought "_Great, another moron to run head first into danger_." He glimpsed at the Gryffindor table; particularly at the twin redheads. "_Or a brick wall, there's not really much of a difference_."  
'Er… excuse me?' The raven-haired boy gazed around at the girl who spoke to him. 'Sorry to bother you, my name is Padma Patil. I was wondering how you do that?'  
'Do what?' The Ravenclaw asked Padma.  
'Well, since I've joined you at this table you've been able to predict the house each student is going to be sorting into before they even put that hat on.' The girl next to Padma chipped in. The Ravenclaw boy recognised her to be Lily Moon. He leaned closer to the girls and apprehension dawned on their faces.  
'There's a reason why I'm in Ravenclaw. Gryffindor.' He turned away from the girls to watch Ronald Weasley being sorted into Gryffindor, as he expected Ronald to be.

* * *

'Do you mind if I sit here?' A boy with sandy blonde hair dressed in Gryffindor robes nodded towards the seat next to the Ravenclaw boy.  
'It's a free country.' The Ravenclaw moved his books closer to himself to give his new partner space to settle down.  
'Thanks.' The Gryffindor gave the Ravenclaw an appreciated smile. 'I'm John Watson.'  
'Sherlock Holmes.'  
'Good morning class!' The little professor squeaked. 'My name is Professor Flitwick and today we shall be learning the theory of the levi-'  
'Clearly part goblin.' Sherlock muttered to himself.  
'Sorry?' John looked quizzically at him.  
'He's part goblin. I thought that was quite obvious really.' Sherlock shrugged. 'Look at his facial features; he's eyes are a big give away. Notice how they're quite dark and slightly slanted? He's size is the biggest give away, definitely shorter than a human; it doesn't take a genius to work that out, but he's definitely taller than a house-elf; that leaves goblin. Then there are his hands; his fingers are slightly longer than those on human hands. Why else would that be?'  
'It… could be genetic?'  
'Genetically inherited from a goblin.' Sherlock dismissed the conversation by turning his attention to taking notes on the levitation charm, leaving John feeling bewildered.  
'That… was brilliant!' John stared at Sherlock in amazement.  
'Really?'  
'Really.' John smiled.  
'That's not what people usually say.'  
'Well, what do people usually say?'  
"Piss off."'


	2. Chapter One: Toast?

**_Author's Note/ Disclaimer:_**_I need to learn how to use copy and paste -_- (Sarcasm!) ...Sam's giving me a lesson... "Ta Da" yourself bitch... anyhow, I own nothing present, I gain nothing (but I lose my sanity) from this FanFiction. cxfbdyr hjnvjkc bhfcbjhjbdnf hb (She's teaching me how to write a disclaimer... I refuse to remove that) _

_Thank you to Sam... for teaching me how to look weird in front of all these wonderful people -_-_

**LEARN YOUR GRAMMER FOOL! ~SAM WHO'S IN A RAGE.**

_I do aplogise for any of Sam's random annotations through out the FanFiction... there's only one... for now._

**_Toast  
_**

_Four years later _**_(_Because the Author is a lazy bitch ~Sam_)_**

Rain pounded against the dark windows of the Library as the wind howled like a wolf in the distance. The scratching of John Watson's quill was barely audible over the raging war between wind and rain. The Fourth Year Gryffindor glanced at his companion who was sitting in the chair opposite, staring at the flame of the candle flickering slightly on its wick.

'Sherlock?'

'I'm thinking.'

'Surely not about the Triwizard Tournament again?'

'Something isn't right.'

John sighed. 'I know, there's nothing we can do to change things though, is there?'

Sherlock listened to the thunder rolling in the distance and the flash of lightning temporarily lit the room. They had been over the topic several times since the champions were selected the night before. Harry Potter's name flew from the Goblet of Fire and the rumour was that he was now bound by a magical contract to compete in three highly dangerous tasks. Sherlock knew instantly that Harry hadn't entered himself into the Tournament; meaning that someone else had, that someone probably wanted Harry killed, no student could've hoodwinked the Goblet of Fire not even a seventh year, so that left staff members, the two Ministry of Magic officials and the Headmasters from the participating schools. He told his bestfriend, John, the deduction he had theorised while everyone else left the hall the night before.

'So… why are you suddenly worried about Harry Potter?' John asked as though he was talking about the weather. 'I didn't think you were that fond of him.'

'I had no opinion over him and I still don't. I just feel that he deserves the same support as Cedric Diggory, if not than even more. He not in this Tournament willingly.'

'Fair point.' John shrugged. 'I still don't understand who would want to hurt Harry-'

'Think about it.' Sherlock gave John a stern look.

'You're still thinking Peter Pettigrew aren't you?' Sherlock's response to John's query a curt nod. 'Right, but Peter Pettigrew is dead, remember?'

Sherlock groaned. 'We've been through this John!' The raven-haired teen pulled a newspaper clipping from his robes and placed it in front of John. The picture of Sirius Black glared up at them both with his lip pouted in a sulky manner. 'Azkaban doesn't affect him the way it affects others, he's innocent!'

'Have you had this in your pocket all year?' John looked at Sherlock disbelievingly.

'Maybe if you stop bring the subject up I wouldn't need to.' Sherlock glared at John reprovingly. 'Anyway, he's innocent I'm sure of it! Peter Pettigrew escaped somehow… and I think I know how.'

'Go on…'

'What if Pettigrew was an animagus?'

'Oh Merlin, Sherlock-'

'Hear me out! So all they could find of Pettigrew was his finger. Maybe he cut it off when Black cornered him… don't give me that look John… caused an explosion as a distraction and transformed into a rat.'

'Why a rat?'

'You know that redhead who hangs around with Potter?'

'Ronald Weasley.'

'Yeah him. I remember him saying that the rat he lost last year had been in his family for twelve years and if you looked at the left paw it had a toe missing. How long does the common garden rat live?'

'Three years…'

'And all they could find of Pettigrew was-'

'His finger, but if Sirius Black is innocent then how do you explain James and Lily's death?'

'Why else would he hunt Pettigrew down?'

'He's insane?'

'Quite the opposite in fact.' Sherlock swept his bag up from the floor and threw it over his shoulder. 'It's getting late; we'll get caught out of bed if we don't hurry up. Goodnight John.'

'Sherlock…' John grabbed Sherlock's arm to stop him from walking off. 'I don't think Pettigrew would've become an animagus. He'd have no reason to!'

'Really think about it, John!' Sherlock drew closer to his friend. 'We know for a fact that Pettigrew, Black, Potter and Lupin were best friends during their school days. We also know that Lupin is a werewolf. Whilst in werewolf form, Lupin wouldn't recognise his human friends… ideally they would've become animaguses to safely support him during a full moon. Preferably rather large animals too, to keep him in check.'

'So why on Earth would Pettigrew be a rat?'

'Small animals are useful too. As a rat he could squeeze into small places.' Sherlock turned away again. 'As I said, we'll be caught if we don't hurry up.'

* * *

'Sherlock?' A pretty girl in the year above Sherlock tapped him on the shoulder. He twisted in his seat to talk to her face to face.

'Good morning Cho, how are you?'

'I'm fine thanks.' She smiled sweetly at him. 'I'd love to stop and chat but I've got to meet Cedric in the Entrance Hall. I just wanted to let you know that John is waiting for you in the corridor.'

'Is he really? Thank you.' Sherlock stood up and walked towards the door of the Ravenclaw Common Room with Cho. 'Is he really unable to answer a simple question?' They exited the common room and found John leaning on the wall outside.

'Thanks Cho.' John smiled at the pretty Ravenclaw girl as she walked past. 'Give Cedric our support.'

'I will!' She smiled and waved as she continued down the corridor.

'Really John? You could've just asked her to let you in, she sees you as a friend.' Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'What's wrong? You're never here this early.'

'I've been thinking-'

'Don't hurt yourself John, you know what thinking does to your head.'

'Very funny… what you said last night, Pettigrew wouldn't dare come back to the castle, not with Professor Moody skulking around.'

'Maybe Pettigrew went back to the Dark Lord. Maybe their recruiting old Death Eaters, you saw them at the Quidditch World Cup, there's still a fair few at large. Maybe they've already got a Death Eater inside the walls of Hogwarts.'

'Who could possibly be a Death Eater?'

'Igor Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater, as did Severus Snape.'

'This is like the Chamber of Secrets all over again.' John empathised. 'You thought it was Draco Malfoy and James Moriarty then and you turned out wrong!'

'They were very misleading characters. If they didn't strut around with an air of undeserved accomplishment then I wouldn't have thought it was them.'

'Severus Snape is a school professor and from what I've heard Karkaroff was furious when Harry's name came out of the Goblet.'

'You're starting to sound like that girl… the know-it-all.'

'Hermione Granger.'

'That's the one… besides, I never actually said that I suspected Snape or Karkaroff, I merely pointed out that they used to be Death Eaters. Breakfast should be ready about now, coming?'

* * *

'Fine, but we sit at the Gryffindor Table today!'

Parvati and Lavender sat near John and Sherlock during breakfast; casting them looks and attempting to stifle their giggles.

'This is why I loathe the Gryffindor table.' Sherlock muttered quietly to John. 'Do they ever shut up?'

'Oh cheer up Sherlock.' A girl sat down opposite them and tossed her red hair over her shoulder to show her brown eyes and freckles, along with her bushy haired friend.

'Good morning Ginervra, Hermione.'

After they finished eating John and Ginny started talking about the Triwizard Tournament while Hermione and Sherlock discussed Transfiguration.

'Hermione.' Another voice had entered the conversation. Hermione looked around to find the owner of the new voice.

'Harry!' She smiled encouragingly. 'Why don't you sit down with us?' Harry smiled back at Hermione, though his smile seemed forced and he descended into the seat beside her. 'This is John, I'm sure you know him, you two share a dormitory together and this is Sherlock Holmes, one of our friends from Ravenclaw and this is Harry Potter.'

Sherlock merely stared at Harry as they were introduced to each other while Hermione and Harry talked about Ron Weasley (Harry spoke more dismissively about Ron and Hermione tried to persuade him to talk to Ron.) and Ginny and John changed their subject to Quidditch.

'How're you feeling Harry?' Sherlock's voice was so low it was surprising that Harry had even heard it. He jumped slightly as the other boy addressed him.

'I feel fine thanks.' Harry smiled weakly.

'No you're not.'

'Sherlock.' Hermione gave him a warning glance but Sherlock ignored her. Ginny had left to meet Luna Lovegood (A Ravenclaw third year) and John turned to listen to the conversation.

'You haven't eaten.'

'I'm not hungry.' Harry looked startled at the odd statement.

'You're not hungry because you're nervous. You're tired; recently suffering from nightmares. You're stressed because of the Tournament and the ignorance of your bestfriend, Ronald Weasley, he's just jealous; he'll come around eventually. You keep glancing at the ceiling; you're expecting a letter or package. Usually you receive mail from Hagrid, but he's over there.' Sherlock nodded to the huge form at the end of the staff table. 'Which means you're in contact with someone outside of school grounds. It wouldn't be your Aunt and Uncle because you despise each other, you can tell that you've been neglected by them from the muggle clothing you wear and by you're weight; you're underfed. I highly doubt that you have many, if any at all, friends outside of Hogwarts; your cousin made sure of that. So that leaves a possibility of two people; Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. If it was Remus you wouldn't be so secretive about it so it must be Sirius Black.'

'Why would I-?'

'Sirius is your godfather; he is the closest thing you have left of a father. You'll look to him for support when you feel upset, worried and scared. It's fine, I know he's an innocent man and I won't tell anyone that you're in contact with him.'

Harry stared at Sherlock in disbelief.

'How could you possible know all of that?'

'I guess I was right then.'

'You guessed?'

'No, I saw.' Sherlock grinned at Harry and held a plate up. 'Toast?'


	3. Chapter Two: Deductions and Detentions

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note: **__I have literally been bullied into uploading this xD I'm not really alive anymore, in a sense that I'm tired and fed up -_- dammit Sam! I own none of the sences, characters... words (they belong to a dictionary) or anything else in this story plot, they belong to BBC, Warner Bros. Joanne Rowling and Conan Doyle. I'm sorry it took so long to upload this, I am really bad with timing and I wasn't (and still am not) 100% happy with this chapter. Ah well, I hope you enjoy it... and yes I will make Moriarty say something, eventually... as will Draco... as will Molly... as will Ron (Yes, Ron's coming back, i don't have the heart to boot him out completely... Sherlock will be a dick to him every now and then though...) ... as will other people... and I'll try to upload on time in future, but I'm not making any promises._

**_Deductions and Detentions_**

'You had to open your mouth didn't you Sherlock.' John chastised his friend in a low whisper, which still carried through the underground passage that led to the Dungeons.

'What?' Sherlock enquired in an innocent tone, giving John a bewildering look.

'That was a very insensitive thing to say!'

'What? I was merely pointing out the obvious!'

'How was any of that-' John gestured towards the ceiling. 'Obvious?'

'Only an idiot wouldn't have noticed any of that... oh don't give me that look John, practically everyone is an idiot nowadays.'

They ceased their petty bickering as the sound of raised voices and running footsteps reached their ears. Hermione Granger hurried past them almost in tears with her hands clamped over her mouth; failing to conceal the alarming size of her front teeth. They watched as she ran up the stone steps and out of sight. Molly Hooper; a pretty light haired brunette from Hufflepuff who (in John's opinion) seemed to have grown a liking towards Sherlock hurried after Hermione. Sherlock being Sherlock; was apparently too busy being a cocky git to acknowledge this piece of information.

'Malfoy and Potter.' Molly whispered as she passed them.

'Where are you going?' John frowned at her.

'Comfort Granger, of course.' Molly too ran out of sight leaving Sherlock and John alone in the underground passage.

'What was Molly down here anyway? I thought Hufflepuffs had Divination with the Ravenclaws now.'

'They do, but Molly's friends with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, she probably agreed to accompany them to Potions before going to Divination. Molly hates divination, thinks it's a drag really.'

'She told you that?'

'No, it's just everyone hates Divination.' Sherlock shrugged.

'No one's forcing you to continue studying it, why don't you just drop it?'

'Because it's amusing.'

The yells grew louder as Sherlock and John drew closer to the potions classroom. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were yelling at the greasy haired, hook nosed potions master, naming him every swear word under the sun.

'Fifty points from Gryffindor!' Professor Snape's voice was barely heard over the two teens' inaudible rant but it ceased Harry and Ron into silence immediately. 'And a detention each Potter and Weasley.' Snape's voice cut through the ringing silence like a sharp blade. 'Now inside or it'll be a weeks worth of detentions.'

The students filed past Snape into the classroom; the Gryffindors attempting to avoid the gaze of the scowling professor and the Slytherins sniggering as they marched to the desks at the front of the class. Sherlock merely grinned pleasantly at Snape and followed John; sitting with Harry in Ron and Hermione's absence.

'What are those badges? The ones the Slytherins are wearing.' John whispered to Sherlock as James Moriarty strode past their table; smirking at the three of them. 'Surely Hermione hasn't been able to rope them into S.P.E.W?'

'They're not S.P.E.W badges.' Harry clenched his fists as he spoke through gritted teeth, but didn't elaborate on the topic. At the front on the class James and Draco turned in a twined movement and flashed their badges across the room at Harry.

'Antidotes!' Snape's voice jerked the attention of the class back to the lesson at hand. 'You should all have prepared your recipes by now. I want you to brew them carefully and then we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…'

Snape's eyes swept every anxious face in the room before locking with Harry's, who glowered back with grim determination on his face.

Sherlock began to snigger; drawing the attention of every being in the room. Each bewildered face turned to stare at him as his laugh became loud and hysterical.

'Mr Holmes-' Snape approached the desk with a dangerous glint in his eyes. 'Stop that infernal racket now before I-'

'You are actually a horrible bastard, aren't you?' Sherlock laughed harder than ever. 'Do you think it's clever to bully and threaten children? Do you think it makes you look big? Dear lord, you're pathetic! You need to learn how to let go of a schoolboy's grudge!'

Snape looked positively livid. 'Fifty points from Ravenclaw and detention!'

Sherlock suddenly stopped laughing as though someone had flipped a switch. There was no trace of a smile anymore. 'Why? Just because I'm right? Just because you can't face facts?'

'Mr Holmes, I recommend you shut up or you'll lose fifty points and receive a weeks worth of detentions.'

'You bully students because you were bullied yourself as a student, you particularly pick on Harry. This could be because he is some sort of link to your childhood bully. We all know about the crazy antics of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter. We all know that you would've been in the same year as Sirius and James. That must mean that they are your childhood bullies, that's why you were livid to find that Sirius Black has, once again, escaped the clutched of the dementors and that's also why you told everyone that Remus Lupin is a werewolf at the end of last year.'

'Sherlock,' John cautioned. 'Please stop before-'

'No!' hissed Snape, as he held up a hand to hush John. 'Let him continue. Let's see how smart your little friend really is.'

Sherlock grinned and accepted the invitation to continue. 'You're always making eye contact with Harry. It's common knowledge that he has his mother's eyes. If you loathed James Potter then having him marry Lily Evans must've really put the icing on the cake; you loved her, but she didn't choose you, did she? Why was that? James got in her good books? You had an argument with her? Both? Her death destroyed you and you blamed Harry for it! As for Longbottom… he could've easily been in Harry's shoes right now, you'd want nothing more than that. It would mean that Lily would still be alive. So you bully Neville out of greed and desire. I'll tell you now, bullying children who are twenty years younger than you isn't going to change the past, nor is it going to bring Lily back. Oh, how's Tom Riddle by the way?'

* * *

'This… this poor excuse of a student…' Snape paced around Professor Dumbledore's circular office; struggling to find the right words to describe the dark, curly haired teen sitting in one of the chairs before the desk. 'This insufferable being… this nuisance… this-'

'Get to the point, sir.' Sherlock leaned on his hand watching Snape pace around the office. Snape turned and glowered at Dumbledore motioning to Sherlock; trying to get Dumbledore to understand what he was talking about.

'What was it that Mr Holmes did?' Dumbledore enquired whilst giving Sherlock the fixing stare that gave the impression that Dumbledore x-raying him.

'He accused me of being-' Snape gave Sherlock a glowering gaze. 'He attempted to humiliate me in front of his peers announced that I am in alliance with Tom Riddle.'

'You mean succeeded to humiliate-' Sherlock muttered, but soon allowed his sentence to falter under Dumbledore's stare.

'I can handle it from here, Severus.' Dumbledore sighed. 'You may return to your teaching.'

Snape looked as though he dearly wanted to argue his case, but obeyed Dumbledore's words straight away; striding from the office with his robes billowing behind him. Dumbledore continued to stare at Sherlock as the office door slammed shut; announcing the departure of Snape.

'First you upset Professor McGonagall and now Professor Snape. Is there a teacher that you're not going to upset this week?'

'I might try and stay in Moody's good books.' Sherlock grinned.

'I'll have to move you back to your old timetable if this carries on.'

'I'll still have the same teachers, so what's the point? Anyway, who else is going to get John to pay attention in class?'

'You still have a soft spot for John Watson?'

'I care for him. He doesn't usually talk to anyone else; I don't like to see him alone.'

'Last warning, Mr Holmes.'

'You said that last time.'

'I mean it this time.'

'You also said that last time.'

'You may leave.' Dumbledore dismissed Sherlock's last comment and returned to the parchment upon his desk.

'Thank you sir.' Sherlock rose from the chair, picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder then left the circular office.


	4. Chapter Three: Invisible Spy

**_Disclaimer/ Author's Note:_**_An early update for once! Oh Merlin! I'm early! (Trust me, this is a first) the world is ending! (It's not really ending for those who I have now convinced that the wolrd is ending... I am merely over exaggerating.) Sorry for the length of this guys. This is what happens when you get bored at 11pm on a Saturday night only to realise that what felt like 30 minutes later ended out to be 4 hours later. _

_I still own nothing you can see written on your screens. Even the disclaimer... that belongs to my brain, which I'm sure will sue me because it's not getting anything out of this! HAHA BRAIN! JOKES ON YOU! All the characteres and scenes do not belong to my brain (my brain's too small to think up such genius things), they belong to Joanne Rowling, Conan Doyle, Warner Bros. and BBC. _

_Thank you to Sam for reading through and correcting not only this chapter but my emails too -_- (Not cool Sam! I didn't even have the yellow glasses on!) Oh yeah! Remember that Husky Sam? My sister now has a Husky t-shirt, she's gonna chase me around the out with it... that bitch..._

_If you're reading this then I love you Juliet, if not then... I still love you 3_

_Enjoy the chapter guys :)_

**_Invisible Spy_**

The next morning was greeted with much gossip. From what Sherlock could tell, there had obviously been an article about the Triwizard Tournament, unfortunately the topic seemed to be focused upon Harry rather than the other champions.

'Oh look at that!' Sherlock sighed after finally being able to find a copy of the article to read for himself. '"… Yes, sometimes I still cry about them at night…" "I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament because they're watching over me…" What a load of crap!' Sherlock scanned to the bottom of the article. 'Well that's not how you spell Durmstrang… not even a mention of Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuffs aren't going to like that… Fleur Dechanoir? Who wrote this?' John leaned over pointed at the name of the journalist printed in italics at the bottom of the page. "_Rita Skeeter._"

'Who else was it going to be?' John dismissed the topic and glanced towards the Gryffindor table. 'I see he's skipped breakfast again.'

'That was predictable.'

* * *

'Sherlock!'

'Don't.' Sherlock hissed quietly as John made to look around for the source of the call. 'I can ignore him if I get to the staircase quick enough.'

'Isn't that Mycroft?' John whispered back, obediently following Sherlock's command. 'He's your brother.'

'More of a reason to ignore him.'

'Sherlock!' The footsteps of the older student quickened. 'Don't pretend you can't hear me, I know you can hear me.'

Sherlock sighed, forced a smile on his face and turned to face Mycroft. 'Sorry, can't stop and chat, I have a lesson to get to.'

'I need a word.'

'I need to get to lesson, now you don't want to affect my education, do you?'

'I heard you were sent to Dumbledore's office yesterday.'

'Dragged there to be honest. Now if you don't-'

'You need to stop showing off, Sherlock.'

'I'm not showing off!'

'Sherlock, you're going to get kicked out if you carry on like this. I just hope you don't upset Moody.'

'Why not? Being a ferret might be fun.'

'This isn't a joke.' Mycroft glanced at John with a small accusing gleam in his eyes.

'Thank you for the lecture, Mycroft. Now if you don't mind, I'm late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.' Without waiting for a response Sherlock swept down the corridor with John in tow.

* * *

Using the Hogsmeade trip as an excuse to escape the castle and its many inhabitants, Sherlock and John strolled through the small mountain village; stopping in shops every now and then and purchasing items that took their fancy.

'Hey.' Molly bounded cheerfully towards Sherlock and John as they walked out of Tomes and Scrolls bookstore. 'Fancy a Butterbeer?' She jerked her thumb towards the Three Broomsticks. The three of them headed in the direction of the brightly lit, welcoming pub; turning their cloaks up against the cold wind as they wandered towards it.

'Hello Hermione.' Sherlock slid into the seat a space away from Hermione, feeling a solid figure next to her that he could only assume was Harry with the disillusion charm in affect, as there was nothing visible to explain the solidity of the space. John sat beside Sherlock and Mary sat on Hermione's other side.

'What're you writing?' Molly asked keenly. 'Surely you didn't bring you homework out with you.'

'Oh no, I'm thinking of some ideas for S.P.E.W. We need to ensure that people understand the cruel rules that are being pressed upon our fellow magical creatures.'

'S.P.E.W?'

'It stands for "The Society for the promotion of Elfish Welfare". Our short-term aims are to ensure that house-elves will receive fair wages and working conditions. This includes sick days and-' As Hermione launched herself into a full explanation of S.P.E.W, Sherlock was certain he heard and exasperated sigh issue from his left hand side. After thirty minutes of ranting, Hermione stopped sharing her views and proceeded to make mental notes; thinking up ideas to campaign against house-elf enslavement.

'All right Hermione?' Hermione, Sherlock, John and Molly looked up in response to the call of Hermione's name.

'Hello Hagrid.' She replied cheerily as Moody leaned forwards, apparently reading the notes Hermione had made, just a slightly audible hiss could be heard. To which Harry's voice could be heard from the empty chair.

'Can your eye – I mean, can you -? ' The sound of Harry's voice made Molly squeal and John jump in shock, Hermione slightly frowned at the place where his voice issued from and Sherlock grinned; satisfied that his assumption was correct.

'Yeah,' Moody's reply was a little louder as he straightened up slightly. 'It can see through Invisibility Cloaks and it comes in useful at times, I can tell you.'

Hagrid too leaned over to read Hermione's notes and whispered to Harry; the whisper was loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

'Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak.' Hagrid then straightened up; beaming down at Hermione, Molly, John and Sherlock. 'Nice ter see yeh, Hermione.' Without another word Hagrid and Moody departed leaving Molly and John to stare at the empty chair in bewilderment.

* * *

'Let me get this straight,' John leaned on the mantelpiece of the fireplace in the Ravenclaw common room, frowning at Sherlock. 'You're just going to waltz into Hagrid's hut behind Harry and pray that you won't be seen? How do you suppose you do that then, Einstein?'

'Simple, disillusion charm.'

'What?'

'It'll enable me to move through the castle without being seen.' Sherlock checked his watch. 'I think I better leave now, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight John.' Sherlock tapped his wand on his own head; feeling a strange sensation. It felt as though someone had poured a cold liquid over his head; the sensation slowly oozed down the rest of his body until he could no longer be seen.

* * *

A scuff of a shoe and then a pause. After a few seconds the light padding sounds that were unmistakably footsteps continued towards the giant oak front doors. The parting of the doors slowly widened on their own. Sherlock followed the noises across the hall and squeezed himself through the now closing oak doors. He waiting until he could no longer hear the rustle of the grass as it came in contact with another invisible individual before heading towards the small cabin, which belonged to the gamekeeper. As Sherlock passed the Beauxbatons carriage a loud knock issued over the sloping lawns, followed by the barking of Hagrid's boarhound; Fang.

'You there, Harry?' Hagrid's head peered around the door warily.

'Yeah. What's up?' Harry's voice issued from somewhere near the front door. Hagrid closed the door, unknowingly leaving Sherlock outside. He was still able to hear a murmur of their conversation from where he stood; deciding that he was now capable of moving freely without detection Sherlock settled himself by the front door, where he could now hear exactly what they were saying through the gap in the bottom of the door without worrying about being hit by the door itself.

'- showing me?' Harry's voice enquired.

'Come with me,' replied Hagrid's voice. 'We won' take Fang, he won' like it…'

'Listen, Hagrid, I can't stay long… I've got to be back up at the castle for one o'clock –'

The cabin door opened and Hagrid began to gait across the lawn towards the Beauxbatons carriage. The rustle of grass they passed by announced that Harry had followed Hagrid and Sherlock too progressed towards the huge man.

'Hagrid, what –?'

'Shhh!' Hagrid then knocked upon the powder blue carriage door. Madam Maxime opened the door and bestowed a graceful smile to Hagrid.

'Ah, 'Agrid… it is time?'

'Bong-sewer.' Hagrid offered her one of his arms to aid her as she elegantly strode down the golden steps of the carriage. Sherlock was forced to stuff his fist in his mouth to prevent him for either laughing out loud or correct Hagrid's appalling attempt at basic French. Managing to keep his silence, Sherlock followed the two giant forms of Hagrid and Madame Maxime along the outskirts of the forest.

'Wair is it you are taking me 'Agrid?'

'Yeh'll enjoy this, worth seeing, trust me. On'y – don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know.'

'Of course not.'

Sherlock soon became impatient. He could tell by the tone Hagrid had used and the gleam in his eyes that he did not want to show Harry something as mundane as Madam Maxime. Also Hagrid had mentioned that Madam Maxime wasn't supposed to know about something. Clearly this had something to do with the first task; therefore the first task has to involve some form of horrific monster; Hagrid's definition of monster would be something along the lines "cute, trustworthy and excellent pets". Other noises began reaching Sherlock's ears; men shouting and… roaring? With Hagrid still in lead, the two huge figures and two invisible individuals passed through a clump of trees. Enclosed behind thin wooden panelled fences stood four towering dragons. Each one surrounded by a number of wizards; each wizard tugging on chains attempting to be in command of the dragons.

'Keep back there, Hagrid!' One of the men called; it was impossible to distinguish who he was as the burst of flame from the closest dragon ensured that he was silhouetted. 'They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!'

'Isn' it beautiful?' Hagrid sighed.

'It's no good!' A second man yelled, but he was barely heard over the howl given by the silvery blue dragon. 'Stunning spells, on the count of three!'

The ground shook beneath Sherlock's feet as one by one the dragons were stunned and fell to the ground, once ensuring that all the dragons were no longer conscious the wizards began to disperse; collecting eggs and taking them over to the dragons or fastening the chains while they still had the chance.

'Wan' a closer look?' Hagrid motioned Madame Maxime towards the enclosures, encouraging her to approach the comatose dragons.

'All right, Hagrid?' The man who had warned Hagrid to stay back moved closer so that his appearance was thrown into focus. He was well built, he had a numerous amount of freckles that almost made him look tanned, his arms were covered in blisters and his red hair framed his broad face; Sherlock knew instantly that this man must be a Weasley. Ronald often claimed that his brother, Charlie worked with dragons in Romania; therefore this man had to be Charlie Weasley. 'They should be okay now – we put them out with a sleeping draught on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and quiet – but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all –'

'What breeds you got here, Charlie?'

'This is a Hungarian Horntail.' Charlie pointed at the black, scaly mass that was contained in the enclosure closest to them. 'There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one –' He then pointed at the green reptile. 'A Swedish Short-Snout, that's blue-grey –' Charlie finally pointed at the last dragon. 'And a Chinese Fireball, that's the red.'

Madame Maxime slowly sauntered away; gazing in awe at the large scaly bodies.

'I didn't know you were brining her.' Charlie added in a disapproving tone. 'The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming – she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?'

'Jus' thought she'd like to see 'em.'

'Really romantic date, Hagrid.'

'Four… so it's one for each o' the champions, is it? What've they got to do – fight 'em?'

'Just get past them, I think. We'll be on hand if anything gets nasty, extinguishing spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why… but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. It's back end's as dangerous as its front, look.' Charlie indicated towards the tail of the Horntail. Sherlock tried to piece together the scene in front of him. Charlie had said that all the dragons were nesting females. They would be protective over their eggs. Maybe a champion had to retrieve one of the eggs; no that's absurd. The champions would have to collect a fake egg.

Charlie had noticed Hagrid staring pensively at the clutch of eggs that were now being placed around the Horntail.

'I've got them counted, Hagrid.' Charlie stared firmly at Hagrid, but then his expression softened. 'How's Harry?'

'Fine.'

'Just hope he's fine after he's faced this lot. I didn't dare tell mum what he had to do for the first task, she's already having kittens about him…' Charlie adopted a shrill voice. '"How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit" she was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. "He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!"'

A slight movement to his left told Sherlock that Harry had made a hasty departure. Sherlock tried to move as fast as he could to catch up with Harry, without drawing attention to himself. This proved difficult after his robes snagged on a thorn bush and he struggled to free himself as noiselessly as possible and praying that Hagrid decided to admire the beast some more to avoid being knocked further into the bush when Hagrid pushed his way through the undergrowth to head back to his cabin with Madame Maxime.

Sherlock finally wrenched himself free, falling into Professor Karkaroff; knocking them both to the floor.

'Who's there?' Karkaroff called out suspiciously. 'Show yourself!'

'Sorry.' Sherlock stood up and offered his hand to help the petrified looking Karkaroff. 'I must've lost track of time when I –' It was too late. Sherlock had completely forgotten that he was invisible. It was too late to pass off the fall as an animal as he had already spoken and looking down, at where his body should've been, he could see nothing but hovering leaves and twigs.

'Who's there?' Karkaroff stared furiously at the spot where Sherlock now stood. 'I demand you answer me!'

'I'm… Peeves?' Sherlock then ran away from the scene as Karkaroff launched forwards to grab him. Charging back up the lawn towards the school, determine to put as much space between himself and Karkaroff as possible.


	5. Chapter Four: Researching and Preparing

**_Disclaimer/ Author's Note:_**_Woah! Woah! Woah! Chill out little computer, I don't want to have to threaten every piece of technology I've come into contact with today -_- Well I am exhausted, long weekend and the rest of the week isn't going to be much better, not only that but this is my final few days to get coursework done *collapses* I'm trying to stay on top of things with the usual quote "It's nothing I can't handle!" As for chapter 6... my arugment with technology has begun with my memory stick too, it's deleted half of chapter 6 and I can't remember half of the content within it. _

_Thank you to Sam who has once again proof read this and to my dearest Sherlock (Juliet) who has successfully mind-fucked us... we're still trying to marvel that one. Any mistakes present are my fault as I was too lazy to give a second proof reading. Hopefully updateds will go as usual next week, if I can catch up. Don't worry, there will probably be some physical abuse involved *looks at Sam* and some cyber abuse *looks at Sherlock* ... both people should know that I'm trying my best and that I love my Fiancée very much (Don't forget the purple "Fuck me!" shirt m'dear xD)_

_Enough about me, I own nothing you see on this screen or around you. Ready? See that mug next to you? Yeah the one full of tea, two sugars if I'm right? That belongs to you. See that cat meowing at your window? The white tom cat with a tortise shell pattern on his back and tail? He also has a pretty little pattern on his head... yup, that belongs to me, his name is Nugget. Don't trust him, he's a Ninja. See Sherlock over there *points at Juliet* now that is definitely mine; no touchy! Back to the story. The characters, places and plot belong to Joanne Rowling, Conan Doyle, Warner Bros. and BBC. I am earning nothing but amusement from this. _

_Argh! Brain Freeze!_

_Enjoy!_

**_Researching and Preparing_**

'All right, Sherlock?' John slid into the seat beside the raven-haired boy at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall.

'Half left actually.' Sherlock smiled in greeting.

'You're happy today… I'm guessing your little mission was successful?'

'Naturally.'

'So?'

Sherlock glanced around to ensure that everyone around them were engrossed in their own conversations before whispering a single word in John's ear. 'Dragons.'

'What about them?'

'That's what the first task is.'

'Hagrid told you this?'

'Actually Charlie told Hagrid, who brought along Madame Maxime and Ha-'

'Maxime knows? She's going to tell Fleur!'

'I know she is.'

'But that's not fair on the other champions. It's bad enough that Harry knows.'

'I'm sure Krum knows too, I saw Karkaroff heading in that direction as I headed back up the lawn.'

'So it's just Cedric who doesn't know?'

'Pretty much… you know, I always thought the Hufflepuffs were a little behind on things.'

* * *

Sherlock entered the library alone; as John decided that he was going to spend the day with a third year Gryffindor called Mary Morstan. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter occupied the table that he usually sat at. Cautiously, Sherlock approached the table and cleared his throat; he did not wish to rudely intrude on their conversation. 'Mind if I join you?'

'Feel free.' Harry lazily flipped through the thin pages of his book before closing it and tossing it on to of a pile to his right; achieving disgruntled glares from both Hermione and Madam Pince, the librarian. 'Where's John?'

'He has other matters to attend to. Working on your dragon?'

'How do you -? Let me guess, you didn't know, you saw?'

'Yes I did actually. That Horntail's a nasty piece of work, isn't it?'

'You could've been seen and you were out of bounds. You could've been in real trouble.' Hermione said sternly.

'I highly doubt I could've been seen. I know Harry's eyesight isn't decent, but if I were that careless he would've seen me, Hermione. Not everyone is as slow witted as a Gryffindor.'

'Drop it Hermione.' Harry retorted as Hermione opened her mouth.

'So what are you doing about your beastly rival?' Sherlock asked innocently.

'Guess.'

'You have no idea, do you?'

'Nope and these books are useless.'

'Maybe we're just not looking at the right ones.' Hermione added frantically.

'Face it Hermione, they're useless. They're for nutters like Hagrid who want to… cuddle them… breed them… whatever.' Harry rolled his eyes and allowed his head to descend upon the desk repeatedly. Hermione stared sympathetically at Harry.

'We'll find a way. I'll find some more books, wait here.' She hurried away into the mountainous shelves of dusty volumes in search of more adequate information, leaving Harry in Sherlock's care.

'It's hopeless, isn't it?' Harry sighed miserably.

'Maybe you're going about it the wrong way. Maybe your answer isn't hidden in books. Are you telling Diggory about the dragons?'

'S'only fair. Did you see Karkaroff? Reckon he's told Krum yet?'

'I think he has, yes. He wants to make a fool out of Dumbledore, doesn't he? There's no finer way than having Krum beat two Hogwarts champions in front of Ministry Officials, Maxime, the Beauxbatons students…' Sherlock rambled on about Karkaroff's desire to humiliate Dumbledore slowly changing the subject to insulting The Daily Prophet and then the topic changed again to "the idiot who actually read that crap." Harry just listened with his head rested on his arms, staring at the pile of books to his right and occasionally offering an input in Sherlock's ranting.

* * *

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs lined up outside greenhouse three, all talking eagerly about the first task that was due to take place the following day.

'I've heard that they have to battle a mountain troll for the first task.' Ernie MacMillan was saying to the group of anxious students. 'You guys know what Cedric's like though, he's quick witted. He'll have that troll on it's knees before it can even grunt… shame the same can't be said for some of the other champions.' Ernie's eyes trailed over to the Gryffindors, each one of them; with the exception of Ron Weasley, glaring stonily back at him.

'Quick witted?' Sherlock laughed. 'Cedric? The only thing he's quick at it finding a mirror so that he can powder his nose.'

Fortunately for Sherlock, Professor Sprout opened the greenhouse door and beckoned them all in. Ernie gave Sherlock a sneer before reluctantly following his peers. Hermione, Molly, Sherlock and John headed towards the same set of quivering bushes.

'You ought to be more careful, Sherlock.' Molly said as she settled down next to Hermione. 'Ernie strongly supports Cedric; he won't take those types of comments lightly.'

'I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking.'

'Now, can anyone tell me what these are?' Professor Sprout tapped the side the quivering plant that was placed upon her desk. As expected Hermione's hand shot into the air, swiftly followed by Sherlock's hand. 'Go on then.' Sprout nodded between them; she had learnt that if she addressed one, the other would finish the answer as though they had read each other's minds.

'It's a Flutterby bush,' Hermione started.

'It can be distinguished by its shaking and quivering.' Sherlock chipped in. 'It produces flowers every century.'

'They adapt their scents to attract the gullible.' Hermione added in a determine way. This was normal for the pair of them. Each wanted the last statement.

'So if the plant wanted to attract Hermione it would just have to change its scent to match that of the school library.'

'And if it wanted to attract Sherlock it would have to change its scent to-'

'All right you two, that's enough! Five point each to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.' Sprout rolled her eyes. 'Anyway, today you'll just be learning to prune them. Like so.' Sprout proceeded to demonstrate, showing them where they should and shouldn't cut them and pointing out the usefulness of the plant.

'S-sorry, I'm late.' Harry panted as he closed the door behind him. He hurried over to Hermione who was trimming her Flutterby bush. 'Hermione –I need you to help me.'

'What do you think I've been trying to do, Harry?'

'Hermione, I need to learn the Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow.'

'We'll help.' John whispered indicating himself and Sherlock. Harry smiled gratefully at them.

'Thanks.'

'Mr Potter, you are already late. Please stop distracting the other students.' Sprout peered over at them sternly.

* * *

The three Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw skipped lunch to find an empty classroom and help Harry practise the Summoning Charm. As each object dropped to the floor half way across the room, Harry became more and more disheartened.

'Concentrate, Harry, concentrate…' Hermione urged him after another failed attempt.

'What do you think I'm trying to do?' Harry retorted. 'A filthy great dragon keeps popping into my head, for some reason… okay try again…'

'Well, stop thinking about the dragons.' Sherlock offered.

'Easier said than done.'

'Don't give me that tone, Potter.'

'Well stop pointing out the obvious!'

'Why? No one else it going to do it.'

'Alright guys, pack it in.' John said wearily from the window. 'Just try again Harry, we'll get there.'

'Eventually.' Sherlock groaned; receiving two glares from Hermione and John. 'What?'

The bell rang to signal the end of lunch.

'Oh Merlin!' shrieked Hermione. 'I'm going to be late for Athrimancy.'

'Can't you skip it this once.' Harry asked in a pleading tone. 'I think I've nearly –'

'No Harry. Our studies are important, we better get to class. I doubt Trelawney has foretold your lateness.' Hermione chivvied them out of the classroom, demanding that they promise they would attend their Divination lesson.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

'Urgh… go away…' Sherlock rolled over in his bed and buried his head under the blanket. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _'Piss off!' _Tap. Tap. Tap. _'Fine!' Sherlock threw the blanket off of himself and blinking in the bright sunlight, stumbled over to the window; allowing the barn owl to swoop in and land on his bed. 'Do you have a problem with the term "Piss off"?' He hissed at the owl. The owl dropped the letter it carried in its beak, spread its wings and glided through the open window, clipping Sherlock on the side of his head as it went.

The envelope contained only a small slip of parchment with a short sentence scrawled on it.

"_You should send me a letter some time, it would be a nice way to stay in touch ~M._"

* * *

'You need to eat something, Harry.' Hermione had been trying to sooth Harry all morning with help from John. What Sherlock was calling "help" was more or less just winding Harry up even more.

'Make sure your facing the castle, the dragon will probably eat your broom if it gets the chance.'

'Thanks Sherlock.' Harry said sarcastically whilst prodding the pieces of beef in his stew with his fork. 'Real comforting.'

'I have that affect on people.'

'Take your bets!' The drawling yell came from the pale-faced, blonde Slytherin sitting at the table behind them. 'How long will Potter survive? I say five minutes… maybe not even that.'

'Don't react!' Hermione put her and on Harry's arm. 'He's just trying to provoke you, don't give him the satisfaction!'

'Is that a ferret I see?' Sherlock yelled, squinting over at the group of Slytherins. 'Oh! Sorry Malfoy! Didn't recognise you without the whiskers!' Laughter from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables rang through the hall a few smirks could be seen by the few Hufflepuffs who weren't currently acting as a guard of honour around Cedric Diggory. Professor McGonagall marched between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables with an apprehensive expression.

'Now you've done it.' John muttered to Sherlock. 'Just be thankful she's not Professor Moody.'

'Potter.' McGonagall stopped behind the small group. 'The champions have to come down to the grounds now… you have to get ready for your first task.'

'Ok.' Harry dropped his fork and stood up.

'Good luck Harry.' Hermione smiled.

'You'll do fine.' John encouraged. 'We're going to be there to support you.'

'Do try not to die. We would like a Hogwarts victory, just preferably not from Diggory.' Sherlock grinned innocently. 'Don't look so worried, you'll be fine.'


	6. Chapter Five: The First Task

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note:** __What a charming message Sam "NOW HURRY UP AND DO THE NEXT CHAPTER FOOL_." _This has been uploaded early for my dearly beloved's birthday... HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIET! I'm trying to finished the next chapter so it can be uploaded, unfortunately I won't be able to do that tonight, so that one may have to wait until tomorrow evening :( I failed *headdesk!* Well I'm going to continue suffering from exhaustion and sun burn. _

_I still own nothing it belongs to Joanne Rowling, Conan Doyle, Warner Bros. and BBC. I still need to learn how to copy and paste and I'm really sorry if this chapter is a little too canon -_- I think all of the chapters with tasks in them are going to be like this..._

_I hope you enjoy it all the same._

**_The First Task_**

Sherlock, John, Hermione and Molly seated themselves as close to the enclosure as possible to give themselves a clear view of what was going on.

'John!' A pretty brunette third year Gryffindor headed in their direction.

'Mary!' John greeted her with a hug. 'Come and sit with us. These are my friends, you know Hermione Granger.' Hermione smiled politely at Mary. 'This is Molly Hooper and this is Sherlock Holmes. This is Mary Morstan.'

'Ah, the one you keep abandoning me for.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Mary. 'Hello Mary, it's nice to meet you.' Mary smiled shyly and took the seat beside John.

Ludovic Bagman, one of the Triwizard judges, stepped out into the middle of the enclosure.

'Now, the task is simple.' Ludo's voice boomed over the stands, making the chattering students fall silent. 'Each champion is to collect a golden egg.' Ludo pointed at the cluster of eggs sitting by his feet. 'To collect the egg they must get past their dragon, they must do this as quickly as possible. Now for the first champion to face his dragon; Cedric Diggory!' Ludo ran from the enclosure to join the other judges at the golden draped table set high up in the stands as nine or ten wizards guided the silvery-blue dragon; the Swedish Short Snout, into the enclosure. A whistle then echoed across the crowd like a shrill scream.

Within minutes Cedric Diggory himself entered the enclosed space to face his dragon; concentration etched on his face as he thought out his plan. Cedric pointed his wand at one of the rocks, transfiguring it perfectly into a chocolate coloured Labrador; he then picked up a small rock, drew the attention of the Labrador and threw the rock; the plan worked well. The Short-Snout lunged for the Labrador and Cedric took the moment of distraction to go for the golden egg.

'Don't do that!' Sherlock hissed quietly. 'Urgh! What did I just say? No common sense whatsoever!'

The dragon had seen the sudden movement out of the corner of its eye and turned its back on the now quivering dog. The burst of flame that issued from the Short-Snout's mouth just caught the side of Cedric's face. The dragon then proceeded to swing its tail around; which Cedric was fortunate enough to evade.

'Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow.' Ludo remarked excitedly. Cedric then dodged between the rocks, slowly edging closer to the dragon. 'He's taking risks, this one!'

Cedric managed to lure the dragon away from her eggs and used "Incarcerous" to bind her legs together, but she was too strong and the ropes quickly tore apart.

'Clever move –pity it didn't work!' Ludo called.

Around fifteen minutes later Cedric had seized the golden egg by persuading the Labrador to distract the dragon once again.

'Very good indeed!' Ludo's voice boomed again.

'I beg to differ.' Sherlock muttered.

'And now for the marks from the judges!'

Maxime scored him six points, Crouch scored six points as well, Dumbledore scored eight points, Ludo scored seven points and Karkaroff scored two points.

The wizards safely removed the Swedish Short-Snout, replaced the golden egg with another and guided the Common Welsh Green into the arena.

'One down, three to go!' Came the gleeful voice of Ludo Bagman. The whistle reverberated again. 'Miss Delacour, if you please!'

The sleek haired witch bit her lip as she faced her dragon; glancing from the face of the dragon to the golden egg beside it's feet. Fleur numbly walked towards the dragon, which bared its fangs at her. She stopped directly in front of the Common Welsh Green and began to do odd movements; almost dance-like and the dragon fell into a sort of trance, following her with its beady eyes.

'What is she doing?' Molly whispered.

'She's turning her charm on.' Sherlock replied. 'She must be part Veela.'

The dragon's eyes drooped lower and lower and she slowly settling herself down to sleep. Fleur slowly danced her way towards the dragon's eggs; just as she drew level with the dragon's head, the Common Welsh Green snorted and let out a spurt of flame, which set fire to the skirt of Fleur's robes.

'Oh, I'm not sure that was wise!' Lugo commented.

'And Harry says that I point out the obvious.' Sherlock sulked.

'Oh stop whining.' John whispered.

Fleur used "Agumenti" to extinguished the flames. Her brief diversion allowed the Common Welsh Green to slightly come back to its senses. Realising her mistake; Fleur hurried into another dance easing the dragon back into a peaceful sleep.

'Oh… nearly! Careful now… good lord, I thought she'd had it then!'

Fleur's progression was slower than before; she focused all of her concentration upon the dragon and her dancing, after a while she began to hum a peaceful tune to accompany the odd dancing. The crowd erupted as Fleur reached the golden egg and gently lifted it away from the stony grey eggs.

'Well done Miss Delacour!' Lugo beamed down at her. 'Good girl, now for your marks.'

Maxime offered nine points to Fleur, Crouch scored her eight, Dumbledore scored nine, Ludo gave her eight points and Karkaroff awarded four points.

The wizards stepped in again, leading the sleepy dragon from the pen, returning minutes later with the red Chinese Fireball.

'And here comes Mr Krum!' Ludo bellowed as the whistle sounded and Viktor Krum slouched into the view of the audience; only his pale complexion gave his emotion away. He started to dodge between the boulders, keeping his eyes cautiously upon his dragon.

'What is he doing?' Molly peered down at Viktor.

'He's trying to get a better aim.' Sherlock sighed.

'A better aim at what?'

'The dragon's eyes obviously, it is the dragon's weak spot. He's going to use the conjunctivitis curse. It's not a good idea though.'

Sherlock's statement was proved true. After edging close enough; Viktor aimed at the dragon's left eye and cast the conjunctivitis curse.

'Very daring! That's some nerve he's showing.' Ludo remarked as the Chinese Fire ball stamped around in agony and emanated ear splitting shriek, crushing all the stony grey eggs to slush and knocking the golden egg towards Viktor; who stood close to the audience, waiting for the egg to roll towards him.

'And –yes, he's got the egg!' Ludo called out as the crowd showed their support.

The judges raised their wands into the air and produced silver coloured ribbons to represent their chosen points.

'Ten?' Hermione scoffed as Karkaroff constructed his marks. 'The bloody idiot! What tournament is he watching? Krum wasn't even that good.'

'Don't act so surprised, Hermione. You knew he would award Krum full marks.' A grin flashed across Sherlock's face. 'Or didn't you know?'

'Of course I knew!' Hermione snapped in an offended tone. 'He's just not playing fair! It's outrageous!'

The dragon keepers stepped in once again to retrieve the stricken dragon, which was probably in need of a good long rest after her ordeal. A second group of dragon keepers, Charlie Weasley among them, returned with the vicious looking Hungarian Horntail. A whistle sounded for the fourth time to announce the arrival of the last champion.

Harry stood in the gap between the fence of the enclosure; his eyes transfixed upon the dragon, which crouched low to protect her eggs, before he wrenched his focus to the crowd, looking around at all the inquisitive faces trying to find a friendly expression to encourage him. Harry's eyes locked with Hermione's before looking intently at Sherlock.

'Accio broom.' Sherlock mouthed the words, nodding slightly at the same time. 'Accio broom.'

Harry drew his wand and waved it high in the air yelling 'Accio Firebolt!' Then stood there and waited; looking a little idiotic. Hermione bit her nails in anticipation, occasionally staring towards the castle for any sign of the broomstick.

Excitement picked up again throughout the crowd as a whooshing noise became louder and louder. The Firebolt zoomed into the enclosure and came to a halt in front of Harry; he mounted it and kicked off immediately. The Horntail followed Harry as he dived; aggravated by his sudden movement the Horntail shrieked and sent a jet of fire in his direction, which he dodged easily.

'Great Scott, he can fly! Are you watching this Mr Krum?' Ludo literally jumped on the spot in glee; he looked as excited as he had done on the night of the Quidditch world cup.

'No, don't do that!' muttered Sherlock angrily as Harry circled high and higher in an attempt to make the Horntail dizzy before plummeting down again. 'It's just going to aggravate her again! She can hit him there!'

Hermione, Molly and Mary squealed and John grimaced as the Horntail sent another bout of flame and then thrashed her tail; hitting Harry's shoulder.

'What did I just say? I told him not to do that! What an idiot!'

'Sherlock, he can't hear you from up there.' John sighed. 'He's too far away.'

'Well it's not my fault he wasn't listening then, is it?'

'You can't –'

'That was a rhetorical question John.'

They watched as Harry zoomed around the back of the Horntail and then he weaved here and there but not close enough to allow her to hit him again. The Horntail kept her cat-like eyes upon him the whole time and baring her fangs at him. Harry now soared higher and higher, tempting the Horntail to follow.

'What the hell is he doing?' John squinted up at the speck that was Harry.

'He's trying to tempt her away from her eggs.'

'How's he going to do that?'

'The dragon has wings, John.'

The Horntail reared onto her back legs and spread her wings; Harry took the opportunity to lunge forwards on his Firebolt, speeding towards the ground where the now unprotected eggs were and grabbed the golden one. The crowd cheered, Hermione sighed loudly with relief; looking as though she wanted to cry and Professors McGonagall, Moody and Hagrid rushed to Harry's side giving him words of praise.

'I'm going to go –' Hermione rose unsteadily to her feet and struggled her way through the crowd towards the medical tent. She stopped halfway, where she was joined by Ron Weasley and they continued towards the medical tent.

'What is he playing at?' Sherlock snarled.

'Who?' Molly looked around.

'Weasley. He doesn't talk to Harry for weeks on end and now he's being friendly again.' Sherlock stood up and moved through the crowd towards the tent.

'I'm sorry.' John looked apologetically at Mary. 'I know I promised to spend the day with you. I'll be back in a minute.'

'It's okay.' Mary smiled at him. 'I'll wait here for you.' John smiled back at her and followed Sherlock. He could hear Mary talking to Molly as he went.

'- not exactly the brightest bulb in the box!' Sherlock was almost yelling at Ron when John entered the tent. 'How could you even think for a second that Harry wanted any of this?'

'I said I was sorry, everyone makes mistakes.' Ron's ears were turning pinker by the second.

'No, only idiots make mistakes.'

'Sherlock.' John warned.

'Look, just forget it, okay?' Harry interjected.

'No, he's right –' Ron began.

'Forget it.' Harry repeated firmly. Ron grinned sheepishly at Harry, who grinned back and Hermione burst into tears. 'There's nothing to cry about!'

'You two are so stupid!' She said shrilly. Hermione then pulled them both into a hug and then ran from the tent.

'She has a point, you know.' Sherlock remarked. 'You two have to be the biggest pair of prats I've ever seen. Right after Crabbe and Goyle anyway.'


	7. Chapter Six: Those Badgers

_**Author's Note / Disclaimer:** __Sorry this is a few days late, it was supposed to be uploading on the 26th of May along with chapter... I've lost count of what chapter we're on now... Sam stop drawing on me! Hopefully this is a little more of a pick up than the previous chapter, if that made any sense *shrugs* I'm weird, so I won't really make any sense._

_So I'm obviously getting a lot of coursework done xD I suppose I should put a warning for the "younger audience." I am **NOT **a good role model. In no way should my lifestyle be copied unless it's a love for Sherlock and Harry Potter._

_I still own nothing it all belgons to Joanne Doyle and BBC Bro. (see what I did there? It's cause I'm lazy)_

_Enjoy_

_**Those Badgers**_

'Hello Molly.' Sherlock smiled pleasantly at her as he threw himself down into one of the armchairs of the Hufflepuff common room. He looked around at the yellow hangings, the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff and many plants that lined the windowless walls. 'I've never been in here before. It's cosy… quite suffocating really.'

'How did you get in?' Molly blinked in disbelief. 'I didn't know you talk to Hufflepuffs!'

'Oh I don't, well, only you anyway. Justin should be more careful in the future, all I had to do was tap the barrel that was two from the bottom, on the middle of the second row. The rhythm I had to tap was "Helga Hufflepuff!"... I was hoping for something a little more adventurous, I suppose that's what Gryffindors are for... mind you, their common room entrance is quite mundane too.' Seeing Molly's perplexed gaze Sherlock added, 'Oh! I can lip read, Justin has made a habit of mouthing the password as he taps the barrel.'

'I thought you were with John?'

'I was.'

'What happened?'

'Mary Morstan. This really is an odd room. Where's the high ceiling and windows?'

'What about Potter and his friend?'

'They're celebrating. I thought you lot would be celebrating with pretty boy Cedric.'

'Sherlock!' Molly whispered sternly. 'Don't say that!'

'Why?' Sherlock followed her gaze to the corner of the room near one of the dormitory doors where Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott stood; no doubt discussing the first task. 'Oh, what's he going to do? Bore me to death with his life story? Face it Molly, Hufflepuffs are harmless –'

* * *

The doors swung open only to slam shut a few seconds later as hurried footsteps reverberated off of the walls.

'What did you do?' The voice was furious but concerned all the same. 'Molly told me she had to literally drag you up here!'

'Do you really have to be so loud John? This is a hospital, people are trying to rest.'

'You're the only one in here.'

'Am I really?' Sherlock opened his eyes, blinking in the bright light of the setting sun. 'That's funny, because you're here too.'

'Now's not the time to be a smartarse. What happened?'

'I was being a smartarse.'

'Who did this?' John indicated towards the cut on Sherlock's lip, the sling on his arm and the otter-like facial features complete with a tail.

'Hufflepuffs.'

'I don't know what you did Sherlock but fuck, you really did piss them off, didn't you?' John rolled his eyes and settled down in a chair next to Sherlock's bed.

'What do you think?' Sherlock motioned towards the otter-like features. 'Worth keeping?'

'Don't think you look any different.' John grinned. 'Bet Madam Pomfrey wasn't happy.'

'No. Then again, is she ever? What happened to Mary?'

'She went to the common room to join the party.'

'All right Mr Holmes, I've sent for Professor McGonagall. She'll come and sort you out.' Madam Pomfrey entered the Hospital Wing from her office.

* * *

McGonagall was not impressed when she heard the story behind the Hufflepuff attack. Sherlock had provoked them by questioning their abilities compared to the other houses and voicing his opinion of Cedric Diggory once again. From what could be told from Sherlock's story it was Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Zacharias Smith, Megan Jones and Hannah Abbott that jinxed Sherlock before Wayne Hopkins transfigured his facial features and gave him a tail. It wasn't until Cedric and a few of his fellow seventh year peers; Derrick Hindel, Josh Gemmet and Stephen Hill saw the commotion and called the younger students off that they stopped. Derrick asked Molly and a sixth year girl called Ashley Coleman to take Sherlock up to the hospital wing.

After Madam Pomfrey ensured that she was somewhat satisfied with Sherlock's recovery she allowed him to leave.

'It's a shame really.' Sherlock sighed as he and John headed towards the Gryffindor common room on Saturday morning. 'I was becoming closely acquainted with that ceiling. Used to brighten my day.'

'If you really want we can go and visit the Hufflepuffs again.' Sniggered John. 'I'm sure they can reunite yourself and the ceiling.'

* * *

As December drew closer the weather grew harsher. Fireplaces in the common rooms were lit at all hours, the house-elves heated the four-poster beds in the dormitories every night so they were cosy for when the students crumpled into them each night ('That should impress Hermione.' John chuckled) and Madam Pomfrey had stocked up on as much pepper-up potion as possible ('Really? She makes it look like she's going to war against the common cold!' Sherlock had said after she had, once again, interrupted their lesson by asking Snape to whip up another batch).

The Gryffindors and Slytherins found themselves outside of Hagrid's hut in the pumpkin patch, apparently tempting Blast-Ended Skrewts to hibernate. Hagrid had explained what to do, evidently missing the stricken-looking faces of the students.

'Sounds simple enough.' Seamus laughed nervously.

'Com' here then.' Hagrid beckoned to him. 'Yeh can help me with the firs' one, an' then the res' can work in pairs.' Seamus dropped his gaze to the ground and slouched forwards, cursing himself for opening his mouth while the Slytherins leered at him.

'Now we're jus' gonna tie the rope aroun' the sting – ' Hagrid showed them how to do it as he explained again. ' Yeh take this rope, Seamus – Tha's right – an' now we guide 'im over to the crate –'

'This could only go dramatically wrong.' Sherlock muttered. Harry had heard him and frowned slightly. 'Don't deny it, Harry. We all know it will.' Seamus's expression turned to one of relief as the Skrewt neared the crate. He and Hagrid had guided the Skrewt halfway into the crate when it suddenly started thrashing around. 'Told you.'

The Skrewt's sudden movements had disturbed the other Skrewts. Within minutes the Skrewts were storming around Hagrid's pumpkin patch. Some of the class, with Draco Malfoy in lead, shrieked and ran for the safety of Hagrid's hut, others, such as Harry, Ron, Hermione and John, stayed to help seize control over the Skrewts. James Moriarty was the only Slytherin left outside. He leaned upon the fence, drew an apple out of his pocket and began slowly eating it, clearly enjoying the chaos pursuing in front of him. In the meantime, Sherlock stood in the middle of the pumpkin patch.

'Don't go there! You're cornering yourself – That end explo- never mind. Now really, do you really think that is going to work? No, use your brain –'

'Don' panic, now, don' panic!' Hagrid yelled in a fruitless attempt to calm the class. The class members who remained outside finally got control of most of the Skrewts. The final Skrewt had Harry and Ron cornered as they tried to shoot fiery sparks at the creature. The Skrewt was poised, ready to attack. 'Don' frighten him, now!'

'Yeah, we wouldn't want that!' Ron yelled sarcastically.

'Then you should probably stop firing sparks at it. You're only going to distress it even more.' Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Bunch of ammeters.'

'Well, let's see you do better then!'

'Fine!' Sherlock drew his wand and pointed it at the soft underbelly of the Skrewt. 'Impedimenta!' The Skrewt froze in mid-charge. 'That was difficult, wasn't it boys.' Hagrid moved swiftly towards the Skrewt, hastily trying a piece of rope around the sting before the jinx wore off.

'Well, well, well… this does look like fun.' The voice was soft and forcefully sweet. Sherlock looked around to find the owner of the voice, it wasn't one he recognised but if he had to associate it with anyone it would be… 'Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Reporter.' She leaned on the fence; not too far from where Moriarty was still standing, she wore a magenta cloak with purple fur trimmings.

'What's she doing here?' John whispered as he drew level with Sherlock.

'This can't be good.' Hermione frowned. 'She's never satisfied unless she ruins someone's life.'

'Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore,' Hagrid glanced at her wearily as he pulled the slow-moving Skrewt towards the others.

'What are these fascinating creatures called?' Rita smiled pleasantly at the Skrewt Hagrid was still pulling away.

'Blast-Ended Skrewts.'

'Really? I've never heard of them before… where do they come from?' Hagrid remained silent, contemplating his answer.

'They're very interesting, aren't they?' Hermione called earnestly. Hermione was trying to edge closer and closer towards Harry without being noticed. 'Aren't they, Harry?'

'What? Oh yeah… ouch…' Hermione glared at him for voicing his pain as she stepped on his foot. 'Interesting.'

'Ah, you're here, Harry!' Rita's smile broadened as her eyes found him.

'No.' Sherlock snapped. 'He clearly attends a wizarding school on Mars.' John nudged Sherlock in the ribs to shut him up and Rita gave him an offended look. 'Your own fault for asking such a stupid question.'

Rita merely shrugged off Sherlock's comment, although she looked highly put off and continued to address Harry.

'So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favourite lessons?'

'Yes.' Harry replied brusquely.

'Lovely. Really lovely.' Rita turned to address Hagrid again but she did not look at him. Her eyes scanned the students from those hiding in Hagrid's Hut, to those outside sporting cuts, burns and bruises and finally to Moriarty; who stood motionless gazing at Sherlock as though he wasn't even seeing him. 'Been teaching long?'

'This is on'y my second year.' Said Hagrid.

'Lovely –'

'Does her vocabulary stretch no further?' Sherlock grumbled.

'– I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We can feature these – er – Bang-Ended Scoots.'

'Blast-Ended Skrewts, Er – yeah, why not?' Hagrid grinned cheerfully.

'Because it's her job to – Oomph!' John had nudged Sherlock so hard this time that Sherlock had doubled over in pain.

'So,' Rita's smile broadened once more, her golden teeth glittering in the wintry sun. She retrieved her Quick Quotes Quill from her crocodile skin handbag, sucked on the tip and then poised it on a piece of parchment. 'How about The Three Broomstick this Friday at seven in the evening?' The Quill zoomed across the page as she made her arrangements with Hagrid.

'Tha's fine with me.' Hagrid replied, watching the Quill with a mesmerised expression.

'Lovely…' She replaced the parchment and the Quill. 'Well, goodbye, Harry. Until Friday night then, Hagrid.'

Sherlock and John followed Harry, Ron and Hermione up the sloping lawns towards the castle; Sherlock still massaging his stomach from the painful hit that John had given him.

'I was aiming for your ribs, I'm sorry.' John cast a concerned look at his friend. 'How does it feel?'

'How do you think it feels?' Sherlock shot through gritted teeth. 'I think your aim is a little off too!'

'She'll twist everything he says!' Harry burst angrily.

'Just as long as he didn't import those Skrewts illegally or anything.' Hermione replied anxiously.

'Hagrid's been in lots of trouble before and Dumbledore never sacked him. Worst that'll happen is that Hagrid'll have to get rid of the Skrewts. Sorry… did I say worst? I meant best.' Ron added.

They reached the Gryffindor table and settled down to lunch.

'Where do you think he got them from anyway?' Hermione asked, dishing out food between the five of them.

'Stranger in a pub?' Ron shrugged.

'I think he would've learnt his lesson the first time.' Harry responded.

'Maybe he did import them.' John suggested. 'He couldn't have gotten them from the forest, could he?'

'Maybe,' Hermione said thoughtfully. 'There's all sorts of creatures in the forest, so he might not have obtained them illegally.'

'Look at you lot.' Sherlock chuckled. 'Isn't it obvious?'

They all blinked blankly before saying 'No.' in unison.

'He bred them.' Sherlock said simply, buttering himself some bread to dip in his soup. 'They have the similar characteristics to Manticores and Firecrabs, I wonder whether he used magic to get them to mate… anyway; it's a huge violation against the Ban on Experimental Breeding. You're losing your touch Hermione, dear.' He grinned at her. 'Surely you knew all of that.'

'So… if Rita writes about the Skrewts, Hagrid will be prosecuted?' Ron gulped. 'Buckbeak was one thing, but these Skrewts are lethal, what if he goes back to Azkaban?'

'You don't use your brain, do you Weasley? Rita isn't going to write about Skrewts. Hagrid is a good friend of Harry's, she obviously wants a bigger picture of "our misunderstood saviour" and she's not getting anything from Harry himself.'


	8. Chapter Seven: Message in the Stars

**_Disclaimer/ Author's Note:_**_I've throughly depressed myself now... shouldn't have listened to the Sherlock Series Two soundtrack "Prepared To Do Anything." I'll live. Dear Lord, now I have to cheer myself up. _

_I know my grammar is atrocious, none of you have mentioned that though. *Looks at Alex* Maybe one person :P I feel I should tell you all, I only just passed my English GCSE. Mainly because I hated the subject and during those lessons I'm pretty sure I was doodling or wishing I could be in Maths. _

_Next weeks updated might be a little delayed, that all depends on this weekend :\ _

_Thanking you Sam for pre-reading this for me._

_I still own absolutely nothing you see before you! It all belongs to Ben and Jerry's Ice-cream, A German Shephed, Starkid, the guy from Horrible Histories who portrays Caligula, Dick Turpin, the cow in a field (take your pick, there's plenty of them), the Go Compare man (God I hate tim), the people from TOWIE (I hate them more than the Go Compare man -_- ), Scrat from Ice-Age, Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, Bill Nighy, Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Daniel Radcliffe (I'm amazed that he wasn't first on this list!), Tom Felton, Chicken Nuggets and the Queen._

_I have no idea what any of that was about, I was just listing things that came into my head. This all belongs to Joanne Rowling, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Warner Bros. and the BBC._

_Oh yeah! One last thing! AB Feta :D to you too :)_

**_Message in the Stars_**

They were studying star charts during Divination; the class was constantly interrupted by giggles from Harry and Ron as Trelawney tried to explain how Pluto could disturb everyday life.

'I would think that some of us,' Trelawney glared at the pair of boys over by the window. 'Might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it and I gazed into its crystalline depths… and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?'

Ron muttered something that the rest of the class couldn't hear and Harry tried to fight the urge to laugh. John glanced over his shoulder curiously at them.

'Death, my dears.' Trelawney said in an impressive whisper. Lavender and Parvati squealed and nearly toppled off of their pouffes in horror. 'Yes, it comes ever closer, circling overhead like a vulture, ever lower… ever lower over the castle…' Her eyes snapped on Harry, who was yawning in the corner. Sherlock grinned.

'Dear me, Harry. The amount of times you seem to have died in these two years alone.' Sherlock called loudly. 'You'd think your little killer might've given up by now. Ah well, I'll tell him to try harder.'

The room rang with laughter, Trelawney, Lavender and Parvati threw Sherlock a scandalised look.

'I'm coming around to check your progress.' Trelawney said haughtily.

It was nearly the end of the lesson when she reached Sherlock and John.

'Let see then.' Trelawney leaned over John's star charts and read the notes he had made. 'Ah… yes, the inner eye seems to have possessed you today Mr Watson…'

'Someone call the exorcist.' Sherlock winked at John as Trelawney glared at him then returned to the star chart.

'Yes… look here… suffering… loss… but this one here –' she pointed at one of the markings on the chart. 'This may indicate that the thing you lose will return to you… that's right, look…' She pointed at another marking. 'Happiness. You have a rough road ahead of you, my dear.' Trelawney finished solemnly. Sherlock snorted. 'Well let's see yours then Mr Holmes.' Sherlock slid his chart across the table. She examined the diagram for five minutes before pointing dramatically and the small marks and whispering 'Here! This star's position collaborates with the position of Pluto, as I explained earlier!' Lavender and Parvati squealed with excitement and moved towards Sherlock and John's table to achieve a closer look. 'This indicates… a fall.' Trelawney continued in a dreamy voice. 'Yes… look! A huge drop, right there.'

'I'll be sure to walk around with a parachute.' Laughed Sherlock.

'But –' Trelawney looked at him, her face lined with concern. Lavender peeped a glance at the chart and gasped before hastily leaning towards Parvati; whispering what the chart foretold. Both girls then looked at Sherlock; their expressions mirrored Trelawney's. 'These two here – they indicate death and according to this one –' her finger slid from one of the marked stars down to another dot which was labelled "Mars". 'This one tells us that you have a choice –'

'At what price?' Sherlock enquired in mock enthusiasm.

'You must lose something that is truly precious to you.'

* * *

'I think she's grown a liking to you.' Harry joked as he joined Sherlock at the foot of the stepladder ten minutes later. 'You'll have the same relationship as us soon.' Harry motioned towards himself and then the ceiling.

'Don't say that, it makes me feel guilty.' Sherlock grinned. 'I'm afraid the feeling isn't mutual. I suppose I can predict her death for her if she wishes though.'

'And what would your prediction be?'

'I'll take one of those crystal balls and shove it down her throat.'

'That's quite mild for you.' John said as he ascended from the trapdoor. 'I thought you would push her out of a window or something.'

'No, she shoves her predictions down our throats, so I thought I'd shove one down hers. An eye for an eye.' Ron joined them at the bottom of the stepladder looking slightly put off.

'Let's get out of here. Lavender and Parvati are on their way. They're making predictions for everything!' Ron shook his head in a disbelieving manner and then led the way down the corridor. 'They mentioned something about that Beauxbatons girl and said "Good luck!" then they wouldn't stop giggling, I wish they would give a straight answer instead of acting all mysterious.'

* * *

'I have something to say to you all.' McGonagall's irritated voice rang through the silent class. She was still glaring at Harry and Ron who had been messing around with some of George and Fred's fake wands minutes before. 'The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open to only fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish.' Sherlock saw John's face light up out of the corner of his eye.

'I see how it is.' Sherlock muttered quietly to him.

'Dress robes will be worn.' McGonagall continued. 'And the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight. Now then, the Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to – er – let our hair down.' Lavender Brown giggled so hard that she had difficulty silencing herself without being noticed; other members of the class smirked at the comment too but were cautious enough to stay quiet. 'But that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way. Potter – a word, if you please.'

The bell ran and students rose to their feet, chatting excitedly about the Yule Ball.

'I'm going to –' John started.

'Go and find Mary, I know.' Sherlock finished.

'You don't mi –'

'Of course not.'

'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, are you going to go find Mary or what?'

'See you at dinner.' John hurried down the corridor leaving Sherlock to lean on the wall next to McGonagall's door. Ron and Hermione had already gone down to dinner, leaving Sherlock quite alone. He stood there listening to the muffled conversation between Harry and McGonagall.

'I sent you my owl.' The soft voice appeared out of nowhere. 'I thought you might've sent one back by now.' Sherlock looked around, there he stood his Slytherin robes hung smartly on his frame, his shoes were highly polished so that Sherlock could see his own reflection in them, his dark hair cut short and lustrous; James Moriarty. Moriarty cocked his head to one side, staring curiously at Sherlock; looking much like an innocent child. 'Do you not remember me? No?' A grin spread across Moriarty's face. 'I'm Jim, remember? I was in the Hospital Wing when you were there during our second year, right after your little encounter with Vincent Crabbe.'

'I remember.' Sherlock replied softly. Moriarty had accompanied Molly when she went to visit him in the Hospital Wing. The Duelling Club set up by Lockhart went out of control and Crabbe had launched himself at Sherlock because of a witty remark.

'It's strange how people forget others so quickly. I suppose that my first impression was quite fleeting.' Sherlock didn't respond, Moriarty had always given him an untrustworthy impression. Sherlock felt that the smart appearance was used to mask his real personality, to give him an almost unreadable façade. With a last smile Moriarty left; sweeping down the corridor without a backwards glance. Sherlock stared after the other boy trying to pinpoint what made him dislike Moriarty so much. He barely noticed the door beside him open.

'Hey Sherlock.' Harry articulated as he closed the door to the Transfiguration classroom. He followed Sherlock's gaze. 'What's wrong?'

'It's nothing. Thought I saw someone I knew. Dinner?'

Harry shrugged and followed Sherlock.

'Who was it?'

'No one important.'

* * *

Sherlock sat in a comfortable armchair before the fire in the Ravenclaw common room with a book in his lap while John sat in the armchair opposite him; looking intently at the marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. The older Ravenclaw students were still roaming the corridors and the younger students sat around the common room; discussing homework, playing chess, finishing diagrams and essays for Herbology or practising levitation charms and disarming.

'Take a good look John.' Sherlock said as he idly flipped the page of his book. 'This is what a sophisticated working place looks like. You won't get this in the Gryffindor common room.'

'Hm.'

'I take it that you are going to the ball with Mary?'

'How'd you guess?'

'You've had that stupid grin on your face all evening.'

'Why don't you ask Molly?'

Sherlock stared at John for a while in silence.

'Molly?'

'Yes Molly. You know? Hufflepuff girl who hangs out with us –'

'I know who she is.'

'Then why don't you ask her?'

'How do you know I haven't asked someone already?'

'You're Sherlock Holmes. You haven't asked anyone.'

'How do you know someone hasn't asked Molly?'

'Better ask her before someone else does then.'

* * *

John didn't talk about the Yule Ball again. He knew that convincing Sherlock to ask Molly (Or anyone for that matter) to go to the ball with him would be a complete waste of breath. They sat in Flitwick's class playing Wizard's Chess, for the tiny professor had given up with his lesson plan as the class were too excited about the Yule Ball.

'I swear you're cheating.' John muttered.

'No I'm not.' Sherlock grinned as John swiped his broken bishop from the board. 'I have to go to the Owlery this evening.'

'Why?'

'So I can learn to fly.' Sherlock's voice drawled with sarcasm. 'I'm sending a letter to Lestrade.'

'Greg? Greg Lestrade? The Auror?'

'No, the fairy. Yes the Auror!'

'Why?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'You want to tell him about the tournament?'

'Yes…'

'But he'd already know.'

'He would've also acted by now…'

'So you're going to tell him to get off his backside.'

'I'm going to tell him what I think.'

'Which is?'

'One of Voldemort's supporters has managed to get into Hogwarts. That's who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire… they must have cursed the Goblet, only Dark Magic could do that… whoever did it must've confused the Goblet into thinking that there are four participating schools. If Harry was the only candidate for the fourth school –'

'Then the cup would have no choice but make him compete.' John finished he prodded the protesting Queen towards one of Sherlock's Knights

'Don't move me there!' The miniscule Queen shrieked. 'Can't you see his rook?'

'So who do you think it is? Karkaroff?' John smiled maliciously as Sherlock's Rook whacked his Queen around the head with the Rook's shield. 'That'll shut her up.'

'No. Karkaroff's too cowardly to rejoin the Death Eaters, he's the reason half of them are in Azkaban. It's someone else. Pity about the Queen.' Sherlock poked the chess piece. 'She's only concussed.'

'She'll live.' John flicked his Queen off of the board and continued to play.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Woman

**_Disclaimer / Author's Note:_****_Hi, this is Sam. I would just like to say that the author of this story is dead. I killed her. I killed her because she could not master the art of writing an author's note/disclaimer. Her body is currently tied up and stuffed in my wardrobe, where I poke her three times a day with a pointy knife. 'Tis fun._**

_Thank you for that lovely update Sam... I'll bare that in mind... apparently I'm dead... no more updates then :3 _

_**Disclaimer: The author owns nothing, as she left it all to Sam in her will.** Although Sam still gets nothing out of it (HAHA!)  
**Go die in a hole**.  
__Apparently I already have.  
_**_Do it again. Only this time set yourself on fire and sing "Burn baby, burn~"  
_**_"~Disco Inferno!"  
_**_I'd just like to point out that there are actually two people typing this out, the author may be mad, but she's not THAT insane.  
_**_What are you... I mean "I"... on about? Of course I am!  
_**_...See what I have to put up with? ¬_¬  
_**_She... I... love it really.  
__**...Get on with the bloody story. Bish.**  
__Make me! SHE'S... I'm... HITTING ME!  
_**_I apologise for this...we be in a strange mood...init blad.  
_**_-_- I will hurt you... me._

_Sam (Editor) = **Bold****  
**Susan (Author) = Italics_

_**Yeah, because they couldn't have figured that out for themselves. Nope.  
**We are a little mindfucking  
**Don't worry, I'll be gentle  
**Please don't scar the reader's innocent minds  
**...You're no fun. Ok, title now.  
**Fuck with them later ;)  
_

_**The Woman**_

The school had never been so crowded during the Christmas Holidays, with the addition of the students from Bauxbatons and Durmstrang a slightly claustrophobic feeling settled over the castle. Students amused themselves with "Inter-house Snowball Fights" to determine which house was truly the best; a tradition that had begun in the 1970's and continued through to the present day, as did some of the harsh techniques. Other students could be found huddled together in the freezing corridors or in the welcoming Great Hall; they entertained themselves with the singing suits of armour or watched as the Hogwarts Staff magically wound garlands of Holly and Mistletoe around banisters or strings of shimmering silver tinsel around the twelve wondrous trees which now resided in the Great Hall.

Sherlock usually stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas Holidays. He found the undisturbed silence peaceful, but isolating all the same. John usually went home, leaving Sherlock to roam the castle alone. Today didn't feel any different; John was spending time with Mary Morstan again with the promise that he and Sherlock would spend the evening and the next day together. Barely conscious of where he was walking, Sherlock turned down a corridor on the seventh floor. Someone cleared their throat loudly, dragging him out of his mind palace. He abruptly stopped walking and pivoted to face the source of the noise.

A tall slender woman, no older than fifteen (She could barely be classed as a child. Her posture gave the impression that she had been launched into maturity without a backwards glance) leaned against the wall, her robes, which bore the symbol of Salazar Slytherin, hung loosely off of her shoulders revealing the crisp white shirt beneath, the top two buttons of the shirt were undone and the silver and green stripped tie dangled in a slack knot just below her bosom. Her hair was ebony and tightly pulled back into a bun, her eyes glinted in the dull light of the corridor, the shape of her eyes were exaggerated by her eyeliner and mascara, her crimson lips were full and pulled to one side in a slight smirk. She clasped her wand in her hands staring at Sherlock with a hungry expression.

He vaguely recognised her face, he had passed her many times in the corridor and he'd even caught her watching him intently in the Great Hall on one occasion.

'Look at those cheekbones.' The woman's voice was more of a light purr. She lightly pushed herself away from the wall and walked delicately towards Sherlock. 'I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?'

'Not particularly.' Sherlock's eyes flitted to the wand in her hands. 'Dragon Heartstring and Elm. Twelve and a half inches.'

'Excuse me?'

'Your wand. Dragon Heartstring and Elm, twelve and a half inches. Mind if I take a look?'

A mischievous grin flashed across the woman's face. 'You can have mine, if I can have yours.' Sherlock raised his eyebrow at her. 'It's only fair.'

Sherlock drew his wand from the sleeve of his robes and passed it to her, as she placed her own in his outstretched hand. He examined it, feeling the structure of it. It was quite supple and the size obviously contrasted with her height. Within seconds he had reached a decision. The woman had watched him the whole time, a smile still playing across her face. Sherlock gave her wand back cautiously, ensuring that he would definitely receive his own in return.

'So?' Her tone was calm and she tried to read Sherlock's facial expression.

'Very interesting.' Sherlock commented as he stowed his wand away.

'What's interesting?'

'Your personality.'

The grin on her face widened. 'We barely know each other.'

'No, you barely know me. I know everything I need to know about you.'

'By looking at my wand?'

'A wand is like an open book.'

'What does the book say about me?' She smiled curiously, encouraging him to explain.

'The wood your wand consists of is Elm. This tells me that you're a Pureblood; that type of wand is never found in the hands of a Half-Blood or a Muggleborn. The wood itself creates sophisticated wands, which are capable of highly advanced magic, this means that it is unlikely that you will have misfortunes or compose foolish mistakes with that wand. This also provides you with elegant charms.'

'Why thank you.'

'Don't mention it. The core of your wand, Dragon Heartstring. This implies that your wand is powerful and capable of the most ostentatious spells. That wand is a fast learner and is bonded strongly to you… for now.'

'For now?'

'Their alliance can change quite easily. They are rather unpredictable. You have a lot in common with this wand. As for the flexibility… supple… you're quite adaptable.'

'That's quite impressive.'

'Not really, that's amateur.'

'Dinner followed by a dance?' Sherlock raised his eyebrow again. 'There's one on Christmas Day, I daresay it's escaped your notice.'

'The Yule Ball. I have a date thanks.'

'Really? Who?'

'Molly Hooper.'

The glint in the woman's eye faded slightly but her expression didn't change. 'I heard she was going with someone else. I think his name was Terry.' Sherlock didn't respond. 'If you change your mind come and find me. Ask for Irene Adler, I'm sure I won't be hard to find though.'

* * *

Sherlock closed the door and cast a look around the familiar room; a huge bookcase stretched across the back wall, a red cushiony sofa rested on top of the hearthrug in front of a marble fireplace, the green flames danced merrily around the small space giving the room an odd glow. A small basket of logs, another basket filled with coal, a poker and a small pot of blue powder; Copper Sulphate stood next to the small marble plinth of the fireplace. Sherlock gave a small smile at the thought of the powder; Mycroft could easily mistake it for Floo Powder.

As Pureblooded wizards, Mycroft and himself had been home schooled by their mother, most wizarding families did this to help reduce the risk of exposing the magical world. Sherlock and Mycroft didn't learn about electricity or how to find America on the map of the world, they didn't learn how to speak different languages or the complicated Pythagoras theory. They learnt small household spells, simple Athrimancy, how to read and write, how to control their magic and the history of their family background. Science was just something Sherlock found by mistake, but he loved it. He secretly studied it when he was away from Mycroft's preying eyes; feeling that Mycroft would lecture him about meddling in Muggle business if he were ever to find out.

This room was the room that Sherlock used as his thinking space. It was a rather unique room as it only appears when the seeker needs it and is equipped with the needs he or she requires; with the exception of food. He rarely visited it because he was usually in the company of John; who didn't know about the room yet. That was going to change though; Sherlock had left Hermione with a note and made her promise to pass it on to John if she saw him.

"_John,_

_Meet me on the seventh floor at eight o'clock this evening._

_Sherlock._"

Sherlock moved further into the room, retrieved a book that took his fancy from the bookshelf and settled himself down upon the sofa and waited for eight o'clock to draw closer.

* * *

John checked his watch for the third time. Two minutes past eight. He was sure the watch read eight o'clock around ten minutes ago. Four minutes past eight. Time does like to go slow when you're waiting for something. Eight minutes past eight. It was unusual for Sherlock to be late, even if it was only a few minutes. Sixteen minutes past eight. John slid down the wall, unsure of what to do. Should he wait where he was or go looking for Sherlock? Thirty-two minutes past eight. John grew anxious, but tried to reason with himself. Sherlock couldn't be in any trouble, this was Hogwarts, Dumbledore wouldn't allow it.

"_Ah!_" A small voice in his head interrupted John's thoughts. "_What about Professor Quirrell? The Basilisk? And those Dementors weren't very pleasant, were they?_"

'They're gone now!' John told himself furiously. 'Professor Quirrell is dead, so is the Basilisk and the Dementors have gone back to Azkaban!'

"_Remember what Sherlock said?_" The voice teased. "_There's a supporter of Lord Voldemort within the castle walls, maybe he followed you to the Owlery and overheard your discussion last night, maybe he's decided to get rid of Sherlock to help prevent his plan from being foiled._"

Images flew through John's mind. Sherlock writhing on the floor in pain. Sherlock defenceless and cornered by masked men. Sherlock locked away, all alone. Sherlock laying on the floor at the foot of the Astronomy Tower in an awkward position, a crimson pool of blood increasing around him; staining his clothes… he wasn't moving… he look pale and clammy… he felt cold… he was dead.

'NOOOOOOO!' The howl erupted from within John's chest, though he didn't notice that the horrendous noise issued from him. 'SHERLOCK!'

'John!' Something collided with the side of John's face, but he felt too numb to register the pain.

'SHERLOCK!'

'John, everything is fine.' The voice was recognisable yet the soothing tone didn't suit it. The hand that had slapped John was now cupping his face and directing it towards the owner of the soothing voice. 'It's all right John, I promise. Open your eyes and look at me.' John obeyed the command and opened his eyes. Steely grey eyes, which were lined with, worry stared back at him. 'See, you're fine.' Sherlock spoke in an unusually soft tone. John stared around the room with a bemused expression, fret still present in his eyes.

'I – you – where am I?'

'This is the Room of Requirements.' Sherlock waved his hand around the room. 'The name's quite self-explanatory. I found you in the corridor, you must've fallen asleep, but you mentioned a body and started yelling. I brought you in here in case Filch decided to come snooping around.' John barely took in the information Sherlock offered. He was still gazing around the room. 'You need to rest, perhaps a night in the Hospital Wing ought to –'

'No, I feel fine.' John sat up and swayed slightly. He noticed that he was lying on a red sofa before a green fire, which he was gazing at in a discombobulated manner. Sherlock followed his gaze. 'Who are you calling?'

'Oh!' Sherlock jumped excitedly to his feet and grabbed the Copper Sulphate powder. 'It's a chemical the Muggle children study at school. You add this to the flames and the chemicals react to the heat creating the colours you see. Sherlock levitated some of the powder with the levitation charm, directed it onto one of the logs in the fire and let it fall in a heap. As the powder burned the flame changed colour; a flare of white rose from where the powder was heaped, the white was framed by a slight purple and blue all of which was enclosed by the green blaze. The powder slowly sizzled away leaving the green fire to burn brightly. 'Copper Sulphate.' Sherlock grinned. 'Funny, it does look just like Floo Powder…Basically, the electrons of the chemical compound gain energy from the heat of the flames. The electrons will begin to move rapidly, this will enable the electrons to move through different levels of energy, the different levels of energy will cause different colours; this is known as the light spectrum. You'll be able to find out more if you read up on Bohr's theory.'

'Where did you get it from?' John rose to his feet and moved towards Sherlock so he could examine the powder.

'The room supplied it. As I said, it's equipped with the seekers needs.'

'Why did you want to meet here?'

'We won't get overheard by anyone here. Hardly anyone knows that this room exists.' Sherlock pulled a letter out from his robes pocket. 'Greg replied. Received the owl just after Breakfast this morning.'

'What did he say?'

'He's discussed the issue with Rufus Scrimgeour –'

'Who?'

'He's the head of the Auror office. Anyway, he's spoken to Rufus, claiming my ideas as his own. Apparently Rufus has agreed to allow Greg to attend the other Triwizard Tasks and other school events along with two other Aurors, just to keep an eye on things.' Sherlock passed the letter to John as he explained. 'They're not telling Moody, they feel that he'll just become paranoid if they do.'

'It says here…' John pointed at the scrawl handwriting of Greg Lestrade on the letter. 'That he's bringing Sally Donavon and Anderson.'

'Urgh… don't remind me.'


	10. Chapter Nine: Stuff Happens xD

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note**  
It's Thursday . I hate Thursday! (Sorry for the late update... my bad! Extra long chapter though :3 )  
**Rawr. I'm a ginger. Thank you and goodnight.  
**It's 3pm...  
**..And I have yet to actually wake up. Still perfecting my 'Looks-like-i'm-doing-work-but-am-actually-asleep' skills :D  
**... Wikipedia, coursework tabs and leaning on your hand... how is that hard to perfect?  
**It is. You have to stay aware of your surroundings, making sure you know if a teacher is walking past, so that you can force your finger (which is resting on the mouse scrolly thing) to move the screen. This gives off the impression that your eyes are actually open and that you give a shiz about what you're supposed to be doing. You also have to ensure that you do not sway when resting on your hand, as this can give you away to people observing you from a distance.  
**Piss off Sam... *picks up stick and throws it* now fetch.  
**...Excuse me? If anyone is the bitch in this relationship, it's you.  
**Bitch! I control your bold! And I'm with Sherlock now! *Snuggles up to Juliet*  
**Please, I have your keyboard. And I knows, I live in your wardrobe remember?...I hear a lot of...things...*shivers*  
**That's a decent trick! I don't have a bloody wardrobe!  
**Well ya do now.  
**Flip! Things are just magically appearing in my room! On with the title?  
**One sec. AB Feta: Obrigado pelos sorrisos :D  
**She google translated that, so apologies if it is incorrect... or insulted your mother by accident :D  
_

_**Stuff Happens... (**you come up with a better name xD**)  
**_

The last few days that led up to Christmas Day proved to be even more peaceful than anticipated. Irene Adler hadn't bothered Sherlock again and neither Sherlock nor John wished to speak of the incident that had occurred a couple of nights ago. John was quite certain that Sherlock knew exactly what John's dream had been about, but he seemed to have dismissed it completely and soothed John with comments such as "It was just a nightmare." Or "You've been on edge since that Divination lesson, you're just stressed."

'Hey!' A redheaded figure vaulted over the sofa in front of the fire, which resided in the Gryffindor common room, landing between John and Sherlock. 'We're about to head outside for a snowball fight –'

'– We were wondering –' George Weasley sat on the arm of the sofa next to Sherlock; joining the conversation his twin had started. '– Whether you two would like to drop the books –' Fred took the book that was held slackly in Sherlock's hands, marked the page and closed it, then finished his brother's sentence with:

'–And actually join in the fun for once.'

John glanced at Sherlock. 'Sounds like a plan, what do you think?'

'Why not?' Sherlock smirked; he was already sizing the twins up, finding their weak spots. They were a very good opposing team but both of them had one flaw; they were too reckless to be observant.

'Brilliant!' George clapped John on the back.

'Why don't you guys go and get Molly Hooper?' Fred suggested. 'You hang around with her, don't you?'

'The more the merrier!' George chipped in, getting to his feet again. 'We'll go and get Ickle Ronniekins and meet you outside.'

'Outside, where?' John inquired.

'Entrance Courtyard.' The twins replied together before whipping up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

'To Molly we go then?' Sherlock recommended as he too got to his feet.

'Are you sure those Badgers won't eat you alive?' John grinned.

'I think we're on a level of… mutual understanding now.'

* * *

'It's seven in the morning. Isn't it a bit early for a snowball fight?' Molly stood outside the Hufflepuff common room wrapped up in her purple fluffy dressing gown and a frown on her face.

'More time for fun then.' Sherlock replied with mock enthusiasm, but even he couldn't conceal the glint of excitement in his eyes. 'Besides, it's Christmas!'

'I don't know.' Molly bit her lip. Judging whether she really wanted to leave the warm comfort of her bed for the harsh coldness of the crisp white snow.

'You can be on our team.' John encouraged. This seemed to have worked. Molly perked up a bit.

'All right then. Let me just get ready, I'll meet you there.'

'Excellent.' Sherlock smirked again. 'We'll be in the Entrance Courtyard. Oh, and Molly.' He stopped her just before she headed back towards the Hufflepuff common room entrance. 'Wear an extra jacket, you'll catch a cold.' He gave her a slight wink before striding off down the corridor, heading towards the Entrance Hall.

* * *

'Is she coming?' Fred's yell echoed throughout the snow-covered courtyard. Snow was still falling lightly from the clouds above, adding to the compiling mass on the ground and structures of the school.

'She'll be here soon.' John called back. As they approached more figures loomed into focus; George and Fred stood a little apart from the rest of the group, they were probably making some sort of plan. Hermione stood with Mary Morstan and the youngest Weasley sibling; Ginny, while Harry and Ron stood to Hermione's other side, Ron was laughing about something and Harry looked slightly disgruntled.

'Early wake up call Harry?' Sherlock chuckled.

'Hm.' Harry replied a small smiled appearing on his face as he saw John and Sherlock approaching.

'Those glasses are going to be a bit of a disadvantage. May I?'

Harry cast Sherlock an unsure glance, but took his glasses off and handed them over to Sherlock. The Ravenclaw retrieved his wand from his sleeve, tapping the glasses with the tip of it and muttering:

'Impervius. There, now they won't be a problem.' Sherlock gave Harry his glasses back and stowed his wand away. 'They'll repel water for now, the effects will were off after a while.'

'Ah ha! Molly!' George called out he rushed over to the timid Hufflepuff. 'Come on dear, we don't bite.'

'I might nibble.' Fred chuckled. 'Shall we split into teams then? Two of five then?'

After hastily deciding who should be on which team (George, Fred, Ginny, Ron and Hermione made one team, Sherlock, John, Mary, Molly and Harry made the other team.) everybody ran to find a secure location that would enable them to remain hidden but still see if their opponents were drawing near.

The idea of hiding places was thrown out the window mere minutes into the snowball fight. Sherlock was right about George and Fred's little flaw; he was able to hit Fred on the back of the head but had to run as Fred saw that it was him who did it.

After half an hour everyone was throwing snowballs anywhere and everywhere, not caring whether they hit friend or foe.

'Who're they?' Ron had suddenly stopped wrestling with Fred… or George… one of the twins… on the ground to stare at the huge oak doors of Hogwarts where four people were exiting the castle. One of them was limping and carrying a staff; Professor Moody. Two of the figures strode across the courtyard, one of them heading towards the Viaduct and the other heading towards the Boathouse.

The woman walked past the group of teens. She held herself up in a professional manner; her dark, wiry hair fell to her shoulders. She seemed to have an air of accomplishment about herself.

'All right, freak?' She asked her eyes momentarily locking with Sherlock's as she passed him.

'I've had better days.' Sherlock's eye lingered on her until she disappeared out of sight. The other figure that had walked across the courtyard had too disappeared, only one of the strangers had remained.

'That's Gregson Lestrade.' Hermione gasped. 'What's he doing here?'

'Who?' Harry looked at Hermione with a confused expression.

'He's an Auror, Harry.'

'They say he's almost as good as Moody himself. Nearly got head of department, didn't he Fred?' George looked to his twin for a reply.

'Yeah. Dad mentioned something. I wonder what he's doing here; I didn't think he left the office unless it was something serious.' Fred speculated aloud.

The unmistakable form of Professor Moody tuned away from Greg Lestrade and headed back into the castle. Once Moody was out of sight, Greg pivoted and headed towards the group of teens.

'Sherlock!' The man called out as he approached the group. Greg stopped before them a dull smile on his face. 'I trust you have something you'd like to tell me about. That letter wasn't very informative.'

'I couldn't write much, it could've been intercepted. We really need a safer method of communication.' Sherlock shrugged.

'Shall we find somewhere quiet to discuss this then?'

'No, we're fine discussing it here.'

'What about –?' Greg made a slight motion towards Sherlock's friends.

'They're fine, they know about it.'

'Know about what?' Ron asked, but with a stern look from Ginny he fell silent and just listened.

'I believe that there is a Death Eater within Hogwarts. How else could Harry's name have been put in the Goblet of Fire?' Sherlock started, ignoring the gasps from Ginny, Molly and Mary. Greg merely nodded, having already taken in this information from the short letter Sherlock had written. 'As I've already told you, the Goblet of Fire would be an exceptionally hard object to confuse, especially into thinking that there is a fourth participating school, only dark magic could confuse an object like that. None of the student would be able to perform such advanced magic.'

'Look, Sherlock, if you're talking about Igor Karkaroff then –'

'It's not Karkaroff. He wants to win this tournament and humiliate Dumbledore, he knows Harry has a fighting chance to win and he's too cowardly to rejoin the Death Eaters. Whoever did put Harry's name in that Goblet wants to hurt him knowing that he would be bound by magical contract to participate.'

'Who do you think put his name in the Goblet then?'

Sherlock remained silent; crossing names off of an imaginary list in his head.

'All right.' Greg sighed. 'I'll have Anderson and Donovan keep an eye on things. Let me know if you see anything suspicious, don't try to handle things yourself.' His eyes lingered on John, Harry, Ron and Hermione as he said it. 'I've heard things about you lot.' He returned his gaze to Sherlock. 'You almost got me in a spot of trouble for this.'

'When have I ever got you in trouble?' Sherlock beamed.

'Do I really have to answer that?' Greg turned and headed back towards the castle. 'I'll see you later, stay out of trouble!'

'Oh lord. He sounds like Mycroft.' Sherlock chuckled quietly.

'What exactly was that about?' Harry asked.

With John's help, Sherlock explained the theory he had hypothesized about the Goblet of Fire during Professor Flitwick's charms lesson. They told the others about the letter they had written to Greg Lestrade asking him to at the very least propose the idea to Scrimgeour.

'I thought they weren't going to tell Moody.' John frowned.

'Maybe they decided it would be better if they did tell him.' Mary suggested. 'It would've paranoid him if Aurors randomly showed up.' Sherlock nodded in agreement.

* * *

The girls had trudged back into the castle hours before the boys, each wishing to get ready for the Yule Ball early. George and Fred had run off to find their friend Lee Jordan, leaving Sherlock, John, Harry and Ron to slowly make their way up to their common rooms; soaked head to foot and shivering.

'So, Greg Lestrade?' Harry enquired as he fell into step beside Sherlock.

'He knows my brother. Awhile ago, he was talking to my mother about a Muggle murder. He told her what evidence he had seen and I gave him my deductions.' Sherlock grinned at the memory. 'If he ever needs help, which is always, he'll turn to me. This time I felt the need to contact him, I hope you don't mind. You should probably tell Sirius, I might give him a little comfort.'

Harry stared at Sherlock in bewilderment.

'It's for the best Harry.' John added in a comforting voice. Seeing the look on Harry's face he added, 'It's not that we don't think you can't look after yourself, but if there is a Death Eater within the castle then contacted an Auror would be the best thing to do.'

'They're right, mate.' Ron chipped in. 'The sooner this tournament is over the better.'

The four of them went their separate ways at the portrait of the Fat Lady, leaving Sherlock to make the rest of the journey to the Ravenclaw common room alone.

* * *

Sherlock descended the marble staircase at precisely eight o'clock wearing his purple shirt beneath his suit, wrapped up in his new trenchcoat and blue scarf. He made a slow progression across the Entrance Hall towards the oak front doors, where he presumed John and Mary would be standing as they waited to enter the Great Hall. He saw Molly with Terry Boot; as Irene Adler had promised. He also passed a girl wearing a periwinkle-blue dress, which was floaty and swirled as she turned to beam at him. Her hair was silky and had been pulled back into a taut knot. Her arm was linked around Viktor Krum's arm. Sherlock smiled and waved at her before hastily returning to his search for John and Mary.

'It's a bit suffocating, isn't it?' Someone grabbed Sherlock's arm and spun him around so he was now face to face with the owner of the voice. 'Why on earth are you wearing a coat?'

'John!' Sherlock called happily.

'Seen Molly yet? She's with –'

'Terry Boot, I know.'

'Who're you with?'

'I'm not.' John gave Sherlock a look that almost resembled pity. 'Don't give me that look John; did you honestly think I'd be up for a dance?'

'Fair point.'

'How're you?' Sherlock asked as he turned to Mary. She was wearing a long, elegant black dress with a red panel running down the back of the skirt and red laces criss-crossing across her chest, her hair framed her face in loose brown curls adding exaggeration to her eyes; making Mary look mature for her age.

'I fine, thanks.' She beamed at Sherlock before wrapping herself into John's embrace.

The doors finally opened and students filed into the Great Hall, some of them trying to catch a glimpse of the Triwizard champions, others choosing to ignore them completely.

Sherlock, John and Mary decided to settle themselves around one of the circular tables with an irritated Ron Weasley and an even more irritated Padma Patil.

'Who was Viktor with?' John whispered as he helped Mary into her seat. 'I didn't recognize her.'

'That was Hermione Granger.' Sherlock whispered back as he shrugged off his trenchcoat, out of the corner of his eye Sherlock noticed Ron's hands ball into fists. 'I see Crouch didn't make it.' He nodded up at the top table where Percy Weasley sat next to Harry.

'Wonder why.'

Once everyone had ordered their dinners (They had to tell their dinner plates what they wanted and it would then appear before them) and eaten until they were full, Dumbledore asked everyone to stand and moved the tables to make room for a dance floor. The crowd watched as the four champions and their partners moved across the dance floor to the music performed by the Weird Sisters. Slowly more and more couples moved to the dance floor; John and Mary among them, leaving Sherlock to walk around the perimeter watching them.

'Are you not going to join in Sherlock?' Greg walked over to him carrying two bottles of Butterbeer. He took a swig of the first bottle as he offered the second to Sherlock.

'It'd look strange to see someone dancing alone.' Sherlock accepted the bottle of Butterbeer.

'Find someone to dance with, what about her?' Greg nodded towards Irene Adler, who was watching Sherlock intently.

'No thanks.'

'Don't be so anti-social!'

'I'm talking to you.'

'Look even Mycroft is dancing.'

'Mycroft?' Sherlock turned to face the dance floor. Mycroft was near the middle of the dance floor with a pretty looking girl from Beauxbatons who was wearing a frilly little dress. 'Poor thing. What threat did he use?'

'Don't be so harsh.'

'That was quite mild.'

'Hm.'

'Where's Crouch?'

'Ill, according to Weasley anyway.'

'You don't believe him.'

'Well, he's so far up Barty's –' Greg cast Sherlock a weary look. 'I think Weasley would lie for Crouch, even if he's job were at risk.'

'No he wouldn't. His job means everything to him.' Sherlock took a draught from his own Butterbeer bottle. 'You can tell by the way he dresses –'

'Don't you even take a break from your deductions on Christmas day?'

'He makes sure his suit is in perfect condition and good quality everyday –'

'Who wouldn't?'

'He ensures every nook and cranny is neat and tidy, he's careful not to spill a single drop of liquid or any food on his clothes, your shirt is creased at the bottom, your tie is askew and you've spilt some Butterbeer down your front. His fingernails are always cut short, he holds himself upright at all times; standing or sitting, wouldn't surprise me if he attempted it sleeping. He refuses to join in the fun because he's trying to keep a professional manner. I think it's safe to say that he values his job over Crouch. He does respect Crouch, that's easy to see.'

'Sherlock.'

'What?'

'Give it a rest.'

* * *

The evening passed in a slow blur. Some of the dancers moved outside, others seem to have neglected each other completely (Sherlock was quite certain that Padma was partnered with Ron, but she was now dancing with a boy from Beauxbatons.) Only a few people were left on the dance floor.

'Changed your mind yet?' Sherlock turned to face Irene Adler.

'Nope.'

'Pity, I was looking forward to a dance.'

'There's plenty of fish in the sea.' Sherlock waved a hand around the hall. 'Why not go fishing?'

'I don't like fishing.'

'I'm sorry, I have to go.' Sherlock vaguely motioned towards John and Mary who were sitting at one of the tables before joining them. He positioned himself so he could still see Irene over John's shoulder. 'John, can I borrow you for a minute?'

'Er...' John looked uncertainly at Mary.

'It's all right.' Mary smiled. 'I'll wait here for you.'

Sherlock rose from his seat, vaguely glanced at Irene and led John towards the dance floor. Sherlock entwined his fingers around John's, placed the other hand on John's waist and slowly swayed on the stop, allowing his eyes to flit to Irene every now and then.

'What are you doing?' John whispered.

'Just blending in.' Sherlock replied.

'Sherlock, we're two guys dancing. How is that blending in?'

'Seamus and Dean are dancing. Anyway I want to talk to you.'

'Why couldn't we talk at the table?'

'We might be over heard. There's a... woman behind you – Don't look! She'll notice!' Sherlock turned John's face to look at him again. 'Her name is Irene Adler.'

'So... you like her?' John asked suspiciously.

'No.' Sherlock gave John a puzzled look.

'No, of course not, you're Sherlock Holmes. How am I supposed to know who you're talking about if I'm not allowed to look around?'

Sherlock sighed and twirled John around in time with the music. 'There, see her?'

'All I saw was a blur of colour. Why don't we just switch places?'

'I refuse to have my back to her.'

'Don't be silly; what's she going to do?'

'Fine!' They slowly rotated on the spot so John could see Irene.

'There's no one there Sherlock.' John commented giving Sherlock a concerned look. Sherlock turned, Irene wasn't there anymore. She didn't appear to be in the Hall either.

* * *

Sherlock shrugged out of his trenchcoat and threw it on his bed; it landed with a thud and emitted a loud squawk. He curiously picked the coat up again, gazed down at a barn owl then turned his attention to a rectangular package and letter.

"_Sherlock._

_Thank you for the wonderful necklace and earrings_

_And helping with the husband,_

_I hope you enjoy your Christmas,_

_Hugs and Kisses,_

_Love Mrs Hudson_"

Sherlock grinned and wrote a hasty reply; telling her that he was glad that she liked her new necklace and earrings (Goblin made silver with her name engraved on the back of the necklace and sapphires set on the front with matching earrings) he also wished her a Merry Christmas and dismissed her thanks, claiming it was the least he could do. He gave the letter to the owl and watched it fly out of the window before turning back to the package which was still lying on his bed. Inside the package was a brand new violin made of Spruce, highly polished with his name engraved in fine italic handwriting complete with a bow.


	11. Chapter Ten: BFG: Big Ferocious Giant

_**Author's Note/ Disclaimer:** No Sam for my amusement because I have no more college :( depressive... I'll have to stalk her through the holidays. For now i have to amuse you guys on my own... CLEAN SHEET FEELING! *Rolls over bed giggling*  
_

_I have to apologise for two reasons... one, I'm sorry that this chapter is 6 days late... it is 6 days now right? And the second apology is for how stupidly long this chapter is (for me anyway)... I almost gave up writing it. Hopefully my next chapter won't be this long or late.  
_

_To my gorgeous pumpkin pie, I hope you enjoy your holiday to Holland... can't believe you're leaving me for a whole week! Sherlock! Jawn misses you already... and you haven't even left yet!  
_

_If any of this confuses you let me know, because half the time I haven't got a clue on what I'm writing half the time -_-  
_

_Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :3  
P.S- Really couldn't think of a chapter title, I'm not imagnative.  
_

_**B.F.G: Big Ferocious Giant**  
_

Sherlock entered the Gryffindor common room and jogged up the staircase, which led to the boys' dormitory. He opened the door a fraction of the way and peeked into the room. He could hear Ron's snores and the shuffling of Neville Longbottom. Seamus Finnigan's hand dangled limply from the one of the beds and the curtains of Dean Thomas's bed moved slightly. Sherlock slipped through the door and silently closed it before sneaking across the room on tiptoes. He moved quietly between two of the beds; Harry's and John's, to the bedside table where a jug of water resided. He poured himself a cup of water and sipped the water a little as he glanced around the dormitory. He then pulled back the curtains of John's four-poster bed and poured the cup of water over John's head.

'Argh!' John sat up and wiped the water out of his eyes.

'John?' Neville's panicked voice came from the bed to the right of the door; he struggled out of his bed sheets and became tangled up in the curtains of his four-poster bed. With a loud ripping noise he stumbled out of one bed into another; Dean's. Both boys fell onto the floor; Neville, still trying to struggle out of the curtains and Dean groaning in pain.

'Ouch!' A loud thud told Sherlock that Ron; who was quite tall and lanky for his age, had sat up too fast and hit the ceiling of his bed; a softer thud told him that Ron had landed back on his pillow and was now swearing repeatedly. Harry rolled out of bed to Sherlock's left, a menacing glint in his eyes and a wand grasped in his hand; pointed directly at Sherlock's face.

'Put that down Harry, you'll poke someone's eye out.' Sherlock grinned as he glanced around the room, taking in the struggling heap that was Dean and Neville, the sopping wet teenage boy glaring at him, the figure swearing in Ron's bed and the bewildered looking raven haired boy, who stood next to him. 'It really is adventurous being a Gryffindor, isn't it?'

Harry walked over to Neville, released him from the binds on the curtain and helped him up before turning to help Dean.

'Is Seamus all right?' Neville asked as he cast a worried look at the last bed. 'He's too quiet.'

'Probably just had a heart attack.' John replied. 'Can't blame him though.'

Neville pulled back the curtain of Seamus's bed. 'He's still asleep!'

'Lucky him.'

'I just thought you'd like a wake up call.' Sherlock grinned again.

'And tipping a glass of water over me is a wake up call?'

'Well, the result was a little unexpected, but pleasing all the same.'

'What time is it?'

'Six-thirty in the morning.'

'Six-thirty! Sherlock, half the castle is still asleep!'

'With the noise you lot made? Unlikely. How's your head Ron?'

Only a few muffled words escaped from Ron's bed, they strongly resemble "Piss off." John got out of his bed and examined Ron's head.

'It'll be fine.' He assured Ron. 'It'll bruise and you'll have a headache for a while, but you'll live.' He then stood up and approached Dean. 'There's swelling around your wrist, I think it might be fractured, your eyes are really unfocused too, I think you hit your head. Harry, can you take him to Madam Pomfrey?'

* * *

The entrance to the Gryffindor common room opened and then swung shut again.

'How is he?' Sherlock was sitting in one of the armchairs before the fireplace; a notebook on one of the arms of the armchair, his violin and bow rested in his hands.

'He seems to be all right.' Harry replied, sitting next to John on the sofa. 'Madam Pomfrey sorted his wrist out but she wants to keep him there until she's sure he's not concussed.'

'Oops.'

'Oops indeed.' John threw Sherlock a chastising look. 'Who's the violin from anyway?'

'Mrs Hudson.'

'Who?' Harry enquired.

'She was my next-door neighbour. Moved away just before our first year. She used to look after Mycroft and myself whenever mother went out. We regained contact last Christmas.'

'Does she live in Hogsmeade then?'

'No. She owns a flat in London. I helped her with a little issue a few weeks ago.'

'Where's Ron?' Harry looked around the room.

'Last we knew he was getting dressed.' John replied. 'We last saw him half an hour ago.'

'And Neville?'

'He's reading.' Sherlock noted something in his notebook and turned then page. '"Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and their Properties" He said that Moody gave it to him a while ago.'

* * *

Ron finally descended the stairs from the boys' dormitories and joined Sherlock, John, Harry and Hermione in front of the fire. Another snowball fight could be heard raging outside.

'Have you told them about last night?' Ron questioned Harry.

'Last night?'

'Hagrid!'

'Oh! No, I haven't mentioned anything.'

'Why?' Hermione looked between Harry and Ron. 'What's happened?'

Harry and Ron launched into an explanation about the night before. They told Sherlock, John and Hermione about how they left the ball to walk around outside and over heard Hagrid telling Madam Maxime that he was a half-giant.

'It's not like we wanted to eavesdrop.' Ron concluded. 'We couldn't really go anywhere else and if we moved he would've seen us.'

'You didn't know?' Hermione frowned. 'Well, I thought he must be. I knew he couldn't be pure giant because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this hysteria about giants. They can't all be horrible... it's the same sort of prejudice people have against werewolves... its just bigotry isn't it?'

'A brilliant deduction, Hermione.' Sherlock commented as he played a low mournful tune on the violin. 'He's much larger than any normal human and you could say he shares a few of their mild interests.'

'I never knew, I thought he had a backfiring engorgement charm or something. Aren't giants supposed to be really brutal though?' John asked.

'Giants don't have a nice stereotype, if anyone else got hold of this information it would destroy him. I wouldn't mention it again if I were you. This piece of news shouldn't change our opinion of Hagrid.'

* * *

Lessons started again and the school was busy once more. Professor Grubbly-Plank took their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term; a stern elderly witch, with short grey hair that was closely cropped and a prominent chin.

The curtains of Hagrid's cabin had been shut tightly.

'Where's Hagrid?' John frowned. 'He's not ill is he?'

'No.' Sherlock clenched in fist and nodded towards the group of Slytherins behind Professor Grubbly-Plank; they were sniggering, tapping the windows of the cabin and it looked like they were whispering to the windows. 'The news must've got out.'

'How? We were the only ones in the common room when Harry and Ron told us.'

'Someone else must've been around when Harry and Ron overheard Hagrid telling Maxime.' Sherlock drew out his wand and pointed it at the group of Slytherins from beneath his robes. 'You might want to move.'

'What?'

'Go and stand with Harry.'

'Why?'

'Trust me.'

John moved away from Sherlock and stood with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

'Hey John.' Hermione piped.

'Hey.' John smiled at her. He watched as her expression fell into a grimace and saw a white flash in her eyes. 'What's wrong?'

'Hello!' Sherlock called out happily.

'What did you do that for?' Hermione whispered in a deadly voice.

'Do what?'

'You hit Malfoy with a stinging hex!'

'Did I really?' Sherlock looked other his shoulder at the platinum blonde haired boy; he could still hear his voice calling out.

'My father will hear about this! Just wait until he finds out who did it!'

Sherlock turned his gaze back to Hermione. 'You'd think I'd remember if I did something like that.' He then shrugged and looked up at the overcast sky. 'Lovely weather we're having.'

* * *

The fact that Hagrid was a half-giant was printed out in the Daily Prophet; written by Rita Skeeter. After being taunted about it by Draco Malfoy in Care of Magical Creatures the group decided to try and talk to Hagrid. That evening after dinner the five of them crossed the sloping lawns down to the little cabin on the edge of the forest.

'Hagrid!' Harry called out, knocking on the door. 'It's us! Open up!'

'Hagrid?' John tried. 'We want to talk to you. Can you open the door please?'

The only noise that responded to their calls was the scratching of Fang's paws and the whines he emitted in desperation to reach the guests.

'Please Hagrid?' Hermione asked in a soothing voice. 'We just want to talk to you.'

After ten more minutes they accepted defeat and walked back up to the school.

'What's he avoiding us for?' Hermione asked sadly. 'He surely doesn't think we'd care about him being half-giant?'

'He's just feeling a little insecure at the moment.' Sherlock replied in a somewhat calming voice. 'I don't think he knows who to trust or listen to at the moment. Give him some time and we'll try again.'

* * *

Sherlock waited in the Entrance Hall. He had said ten o'clock, it was now quarter past ten. Sherlock sighed and lent against the stone wall, he might as well get comfortable, as he knew he was going to be here until twenty-five past ten.

Ten minutes later Harry ran down the steps two at a time and jumped the last four.

'S-sorry!' Harry spluttered as he stopped in front of Sherlock and clutched a stitch in his side. 'I –'

'Overslept. I knew you would.'

'Where's John?'

'He's with Mary.'

'Again?' Harry and Sherlock headed out of the Oak front doors. 'Are they dating or not?'

'Apparently they're not, but there's definitely something going on. John says they're just good friends. What about Ron and Hermione?'

'They're meeting us in the Three Broomsticks.'

'Are they –?'

'No.' Harry laughed. 'Absolutely not! They're just friends.'

'For now.'

'For now?'

'Surely you of all people would have noticed by now Harry, he loves her. He's always there to defend her and he was jealous when she said that she had a date for the Yule Ball.'

'But they argue all the time.'

'Maybe so, but he still loves her.'

* * *

They entered the Three Broomsticks and ordered their drinks.

'There they are.' Sherlock pointed towards a table in front of one of the windows. Ron and Hermione sat in discussion occasionally sipping their drinks. 'Look out.'

'Huh?' Harry gave Sherlock a perplexed look.

'Ludo Bagman's on his way over.'

'Harry!' Ludo called, a grin spreading across his face. 'How're you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?'

'Fine, thanks.' Harry replied.

'Wonder if I can have a quick, private word, Harry. You couldn't give us a moment could you? Ludo added to Sherlock.

'Not at all.' Sherlock took his drink and wandered over to Ron and Hermione. 'No sign of Hagrid then?'

'No.' Hermione cast a worried glance around the pub.

'Doesn't surprise me.' Sherlock looked down at the notepad in front of Hermione. 'Still going on about S.P.E.W?'

'Yes! I'm not going to stop until they have decent wage and sick days off!'

'Well, give us a badge then.' Sherlock pulled two sickles out of his pocket.

'What? I thought you didn't like the idea of S.P.E.W? You tried to talk me out of it.'

'Did I really? Must've had a change of heart then.' Hermione handed him one of the badges from the small box she carried around in the pocket of her robes. He examined the pin and then attached the badge to the front of his robes, making sure Hermione saw him pin it there. Harry sat down beside Sherlock.

'What did he want?' Ron queried, nodding towards the door that Ludo had just walked out of.

'He wanted to help me with the golden egg.' Harry stared curiously as the badge on Sherlock's chest.

'He shouldn't be doing that!' Hermione burst out angrily. 'He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out - haven't you?'

'Er… nearly.' Harry heard Sherlock give a slight chuckle but decided to ignore it.

'Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat! I hope he's helping Cedric as much!'

'He's not, I asked.'

'Who cares if Diggory's getting help?' Ron interjected.

'Those goblins didn't look very friendly.' Hermione continued.

'Goblins?' Sherlock turned to her. 'What goblins?'

'Before Bagman approached you and Harry he was sitting with a bunch of goblins.' Ron answered. 'He looked really frustrated.'

'What were they doing here?' Hermione frowned at the door.

'Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman.' Harry replied. 'He's still ill, hasn't been to work.'

'Maybe Percy's poisoning him,' Ron suggested, a grin spreading across his face. 'Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.'

Hermione threw Ron a disapproving stare before adding, 'Funny, goblins should be looking for Mr. Crouch… they'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.'

'Crouch can speak loads of different languages though.' Harry offered. 'Maybe they need an interpreter.'

'Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins now are you?' Ron teased. Harry heard Sherlock chuckle again, but chose to ignore it. Harry had come to the conclusion that if Sherlock made a deduction that was proved right he would somehow show it, in this case he chuckled each time his judgment was proved correct or if he knew something that the others didn't. 'Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?'

'Ha, ha, ha.' Hermione responded sarcastically. 'Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?'

'No.' Harry and Ron replied in unison.

'It's quite easy for them to deal with wizards.' Sherlock started before Hermione could beat him to it. 'They're much more intelligent than what we give them credit for. Hermione's thinking something along the lines of; Goblins can use their intellect to stick up for themselves, whereas house-elves do as they are told, when they are told.'

'Exactly!' Hermione smiled.

'Uh oh.' Ron nodded towards the door. Sherlock, Hermione and Harry looked around in time to watch as a woman with curled, blonde hair, wearing bright yellow robes with pink nails, with her crocodile skin handbag clutched under he left arm entered the Three Broomsticks shortly followed by a paunchy photographer.

'- Didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo?' Rita Skeeter flashed a smile at the photographer. 'Now, I wonder why that would be, don't you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights… what nonsense… he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? "Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman…" Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it –'

'Trying to ruin someone else's life?' Harry called out though gritted teeth.

'Harry!' Her eyes landed on the little group at the table by the window. 'How lovely! Why don't you come and join –'

'I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick, what did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?'

'Our readers have the right to know the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my –'

'Who cares if he is a half-giant?' Harry's voice began to rise. 'There's nothing wrong with him!'

Rita surveyed Harry for a moment before unclasping her crocodile skin handbag. 'How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reason behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?'

'You horrible woman!' Hermione stood up and glared at Rita. 'You don't even care, do you? Anything for a story and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman –'

'Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand, I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it –' Rita eyes Hermione's bushy hair and turned her nose up in the other direction.

'Let's go.' Hermione stilled glared coldly at Rita as she ushered Sherlock, Harry and Ron out of the pub. Before leaving Sherlock poked his head through the door and looked directly at Rita Skeeter.

'Brainy is the new sexy. It's a shame you lack that quality.' He winked at her, withdrew his head from the pub and caught up with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

'Let her try!' Hermione was saying. 'I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid…'

'You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter.' Ron glanced nervously over his shoulder. 'I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig something up something on you –'

'My parents don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!' Hermione hurried her pace, charging up the road towards the school, leaving Sherlock, Harry and Ron to run behind her. 'And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!'

They passed through the school gates, ran across the grounds and halted in front of Hagrid's cabin door. Hermione began to hammer on the door with her fist.

'Hagrid!' She shrieked. 'Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that fowl Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being –' The door slowly creaked open. 'About t-' Hermione stopped talking, her face slowly turned pink and she backed away from the door.

'Good afternoon.' Albus Dumbledore smiled down at the four teens before him.

'We – er – wanted to see Hagrid.' Hermione looked at the floor in embarrassment.

'Yes, I summarised as much. Why don't you come in?' Dumbledore stepped to one side and waved his hand towards the door allowing them to pass through.

'Oh… um… okay.' Hermione looked sheepishly at Dumbledore and then passed through the door with Harry and Ron following behind her.

'Sherlock!' The voice was quite distant but audible all the same. John stopped just before Sherlock and Dumbledore. 'I saw you… in the Three Broomstick… Rita… what are you guys doing now?'

'We're talking to Hagrid, come on.' Sherlock smiled encouragingly at John then entered the cabin.

Hagrid's cabin only consisted of one room. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceilings. A copper kettle rested above the flames in the fireplace and in the corner of the room stood a bed with a patchwork quilt. A wooden table stood to the left of the door. Hagrid was sitting at the table with two mugs of tea. His eyes were blotchy and puffy and his hair now resembled something like a wild bush.

'Hello Hagrid.' John smiled at the huge form. Hagrid looked up at John, confusion showing on his face. Sherlock and John had never spoken to Hagrid before, unless they were answering a question in class.

'Lo.' Hagrid replied as he dropped his gaze back to his mug.

'More tea, I think.' Dumbledore said cheerfully as he closed the cabin door. He drew out his wand and conjured up a tray of tea and cakes. He motioned for the children to sit down around the table with Hagrid and then handed tea to everyone. 'Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?'

'How couldn't he?' Sherlock's mutter was still audible, but he silenced himself with a warning glance from John.

'Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sherlock and John still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break the door down.'

'"Still seem to want to know you…" Barely knew –'

'Shh!'John pressed a finger to his lips and glared at Sherlock

'Oh shush yourself, John.'

Sherlock saw Dumbledore smile slightly before turning his attention to what Harry was saying.

'Of course we still want to know you!' Harry stared at Hagrid with sadness filling his eyes. 'You didn't think anything that Skeeter cow – sorry professor.'

'I have done temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you just said, Harry.'

'I thought that was very mild.' Sherlock sat back and twiddled his thumbs. 'I would've said whore. Much more offensive.'

'_Sherlock!'_ John nudged the other boy in attempt to quieten him.

'Er – right.' Harry continued. 'I just meant – How can you care what that – woman – wrote about you?'

'Woman? I though women were supposed to be strong and independent, she's a foul excuse of a woman.' Sherlock started again.

'I give up.' John sighed.

'Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid.' Dumbledore spoke before Sherlock could continue his rambling about Rita. 'I have shown you letters from countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that, if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it –'

'Not all of 'em.' Tears leaked from Hagrid's eyes and fell into his mug of tea. 'Not all of 'em wan' me to stay.'

'Oh Merlin.' Sherlock sighed. 'Hagrid, not everyone will. Those who judge others are more commonly known as assholes.' Hermione gasped, John glared at Sherlock and Harry and Ron passed their laughs off as coughs then hastily drunk their tea. 'Someone was going to say it.' Sherlock shrugged and picked up his tea. 'Sometimes the truth hurts.'

'You could've said that a little less offensively.' Hermione glanced at Dumbledore, who stared at the ceiling, seemingly oblivious to what was being said.

'Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time.' Dumbledore peered at the half-giant over the top of his half-moon spectacles. 'Not a week has passed, since I became Headmaster of this school, when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?'

'Yeh – yeh're not half-giant!'

'Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!' Harry burst. 'Look at the Dursleys!'

'An excellent point.' Dumbledore beamed at Harry. 'My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practising inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery…'

'Come back and teach, Hagrid.' Hermione looked at Hagrid pleadingly. 'Please come back, we really miss you.'

Dumbledore stood up and looked down at Hagrid. 'I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all.' His eyes swept past all of the face around the wooden table, he then hesitated to scratch Fang's ear and left without another word.

Hagrid began to sob again and Hermione moved awkwardly around the table to reach and comfort him. 'Great man, Dumbledore… great man…'

'Yeah, he is.' Ron nodded. 'Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?'

'You sound like my brother, Mycroft.' Sherlock gave Ron a small smile.

'Help yerself.' Hagrid choked back another sob and sat up straight. 'Ar, he's righ' o' course – yeh're all righ' … I bin stupid… my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin' … never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here…' Hagrid rose from the table (ignoring the fact that he knocked his chair over on the way) and opened the draw of his dresser. He pulled out a small-framed picture, dusted it off a little then passed it to Hermione.

The figures in the photo laughed and waved. The smaller man sat upon the shoulder of an eleven year old Hagrid. Beside the two figures stood an apple tree, judging by the picture, Sherlock assumed Hagrid must've been seven or eight feet tall.

'Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts.' Hagrid beamed down at the photo, his crinkled black eyes leaked a few more tears. 'Dad was dead chuffed… thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum… well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really… but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year…'

'That's horrible.' John stared at Hagrid, his face lined with sympathy. Even Sherlock had to admit that he felt a slight twinge of sadness.

'Nah…' Hagrid shook his head. 'Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job… trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances… tha's what sets him apar' from other Heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got talent. Knows that people can turn out OK even if their families weren'… well… all tha' respectable. But some don' understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh… there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say – I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. "Never be ashamed," my ol' dad used ter say, "There'll be some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with." An' he was right. I've been an idiot –'

'That's an understatement.' Sherlock remarked quietly, but no one seemed to have paid him any attention.

'- I'm not botherin' with _her _no more.' Hagrid's tone had turned harsher, the eyes that were crinkled with happiness were now narrowed to a furious glare. 'I promise yeh that. Big bones… I'll give her big bones.' The teens shared nervous glances around the table. Hagrid seem complete oblivious to the fact that they were still sitting around the table. He suddenly snapped out of his sub-consciousness and turned his gaze to Harry. 'Yeh know wha', Harry? When I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember?' Harry's cheeks reddened but he didn't shift his gaze from Hagrid's eyes. 'Not sure yeh were really up to it… an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion! Yeh know what I'd love, Harry? I'd love to see yeh win, I really would. It'd shown 'em all… yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don' have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?'

'Great.' Harry smiled up at Hagrid, who returned a watery smile. 'Really great.'

'Tha's my boy… You show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all.'

* * *

'That was interesting.' Sherlock commented. He, John, Harry, Ron and Hermione were now slowly walking up the lawns towards the castle, waving at Hagrid over their shoulders as they went. 'I thought Professors weren't supposed to choose sides.'

'Well, they're bound to anyway.' Ron replied. 'They're just not supposed to voice their opinions are they.' Sherlock nodded.

'I just didn't think Hagrid would express his thoughts in front of John and myself. He only knows us as students.'

'But you came to see him.' Hermione pointed out. 'Hagrid thought the students hated him.'

'Yes…' Sherlock paused in thought. 'I suppose you're right. If you three went alone that would only have given him a fraction of comfort. Seeing students who he is close to will give him encouragement as it may prove that other students want him to teach again too.' He then turned to John. 'What have you done with Mary?'

'Mary?' John gave Sherlock a puzzled look.

'Mary, about this tall,' Sherlock held his hand up so it was roughly eye level with John. 'Brown hair, brown eyes, you took her to the Yule Ball, you was on a date with her until you hunted us lot down…'

'Oh! I have to go!' John turned and ran towards the school gates. 'I'll see you dinner!'

* * *

The twenty-fourth of February drew closer. Harry confessed that he hadn't yet worked out the clue for the next task, which led to tantrums and arguments between himself and Hermione ('You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!'). The trio found themselves in the library searching through books for a simple charm that Harry could use to aid him in breathing under water. Their search continued through to the evening before the second task.

'We've come to help.' Harry looked up and saw Sherlock, John and Molly standing before him.

'You don't have to.' A guilty look fell across Harry's face. 'It's my own fault.'

'That's because you're an idiot.' Sherlock fell into the seat beside Harry.

'Hopefully you've learnt your lesson and you'll act wisely next time.' Molly smiled at Harry as she took the seat next to Hermione. John had gone with Ron to collect some more books.

'I wouldn't count on that, Molly.' Harry grinned. 'I'll probably still be disorganised – what is that?' Harry stared at the object that Sherlock had placed on the table.

'It's called a violin, Harry.' Sherlock pulled one of the books towards him and examined the cover. 'It helps me think… this book is useless.' He threw the book on the floor, making Molly jump and Hermione glare reproachfully at him. Hermione continued to read though the pages of _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes._

'I don't reckon it can be done.' Ron returned with John, both of them were empty handed. 'There's nothing. _Nothing._ Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Draught Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake.'

'There must be something.' Hermione mumbled in a frustrated tone. 'They'd never set a task that was undoable.'

'Maybe you should look at potions and plants too.' Molly suggested. 'You're broadening your options so you're more likely to find a solution.'

'But potions take time to make.' John leaned against one of the bookshelves frowning at Molly. 'Besides, how're are we going to get the potions ingredients in time?'

'We could steal them from Snape's private stores…' Molly glanced guiltily around the table before hastily adding. 'It's only a suggestion, I don't approve of theft or anything!'

'I don't think it's a good idea.' Harry replied. 'Snape's already suspicious. Apparently some ingredients have gone missing from his private store.'

'Just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate.' Ron shrugged.

'I know what I should've done.' Harry said as he rested his head on _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts_. 'I should've learnt to be an animagus like Snuffles.'

'Yeah, you could've become a goldfish any time you wanted!'

'Or a frog.'

'It takes years to become an animagus.' Hermione replied, turning the pages of _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas and Their Solutions_. 'And then you have to –'

'Wait a second.' Molly looked between Harry, Ron and Hermione. 'Who's Snuffles?'

Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance.

'It's all right.' Sherlock assured them. 'She can be trusted.'

'Do you remember the stories about Sirius Black?' Harry asked. Hermione's eyes were round with anxiety. Molly nodded. 'Well… we found out that he's innocent.'

'But how can he be innocent?' Molly stared around at each of them. 'He blew the street up and killed thirteen people!'

'No!' Hermione started earnestly. 'Peter Pettigrew did it!'

'But Black killed Pettigrew.'

'He didn't.' Ron answered. 'We've seen Pettigrew. He was an animagus, just like Sirius. He cut his finger off, killed the muggles, transformed into a rat and escaped.' Molly turned to stare at Sherlock and John.

'It's true.' Sherlock confirmed. 'Azkaban didn't affect him the way it affected others. He knew he was innocent and that's what kept him from going insane.'

'What about Pettigrew? If he's alive where is he now? Where has he been all these years?' Molly's tone wasn't disbelieving, she was merely curious.

'He pretended to be a rat.' Ron validated. 'He was with my family pretending to be a pet, he once belonged to my brother Percy, but he was made Head Boy so mum and dad got him an owl instead and Pettigrew became my pet –'

'We don't know where he is now.' Hermione cut across Ron. 'We caught him last year but due to some unexpected circumstances he got away.'

'That makes sense.' Molly nodded. 'I believe you.'

Someone cleared their throat from behind one of the bookshelves making the group jump.

'Hello.' Fred grinned, stepping out of the shadows into the candle light.

'Surely you're not studying at this time of night!' George stepped into view next to Fred.

'What're you two doing here?' Ron asked suspiciously.

'Looking for you.' George nodded towards Ron and Hermione. 'McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione.'

'Why?' Hermione asked looking surprised.

'Dunno… she was looking a bit grim, though.' Fred shrugged.

'We're supposed to take you down to her office.' George finished.

'We'll meet you back in the common room' Hermione bit her lip nervously 'Bring as many of these books as you can, OK?'

'Right' Harry nodded. Ron and Hermione followed the twins out of the Library in silence, leaving Sherlock, John, Harry and Mary to find a solution to Harry's problem.

'You don't think they're being told off, do you?' John voiced Harry's worry.

'Why would they be told off?' Sherlock asked.

'For helping me.' Harry replied gloomily.

'Of course they're not. Otherwise we'd have been called in too.'

'Maybe they haven't found out that you're helping me.'

'It wouldn't take them long, Harry. They'd only have to ask Madam Pince or watch our behaviour.'

* * *

The four of them studied until Madam Pince ushered them out of the doors at eight o'clock, each of them staggering under the weight of books. Molly headed toward the Hufflepuff common room, distributing her share of the book equally between Sherlock, John and Harry.

'Good luck.' She smiled and waved as she left.

'Thanks for the help.' Harry smiled back and began walking towards the Gryffindor common room.

The three boys continued their research until midnight. The common room had emptied hours ago; they had even seen George and Fred go up to their dormitory and questioned them about Ron and Hermione as they strode past them. They had read though all of the book and found nothing.

'We could… go back to the library.' John proposed after flipping the last book shut.

'Sure.' Harry stood up and headed towards the boys' dormitory. 'Wait there.' He came back down minutes later with a silvery coloured cloak in his hands.

'A cloak?' John enquired.

'It's an invisibility cloak.' Harry replied, throwing the cloak over John and Sherlock. 'It was passed down to me by my dad.' Harry ducked under the cloak as well.

* * *

They found their previous seats in the Library and continued their search by wand light. They had gone over the egg's song twice to see if it would help them in their search.

'Tell me what the egg's clue said again.' Sherlock demanded while he paced back and fourth in front of the table where Harry and John were sitting. He carried his violin as he went. John had fallen asleep after a while, Harry and Sherlock thought it would be kinder to leave him there.

'Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground –' Harry spoke in a monotone voice, his eyelids drooping lower and lower as he spoke.

'We already know that is definitely implying the merpeople. They can't sing or speak above water, they kind of screech. I can't think of any other creature with the same description.' Sherlock nodded.

'An hour long you'll have to look, to recover what we took –'

'Obvious what that verse is implying.' Sherlock began to play a rather complicated tune on the violin as he paused in front of the desk.

'Do you mind?'

'Not as all.' Sherlock gave Harry a sweet smile, but did not cease the tune he was composing with his violin.

'It's quite distracting.' Harry said through gritted teeth, glowering irritably at the violin.

'It helps me think.'

'It doesn't help me.'

'That doesn't matter. Your thinking capacity can only go so far, Harry.' Harry gave Sherlock an incredulous look. 'Don't look at me like that. You know it's true.'

'It's hopeless.' Harry moaned. 'We're not going to find anything, we might as well give up now.' Sherlock whacked Harry around the back of the head with the bow of his violin. 'Ouch! What the hell was –'

'You're not giving up that easily! We're going to continue looking, even if it means we have to pull every book off of the shelves!' Sherlock gave Harry a furious glare.

They read through one book after another, reading in silence.

'Harry, are you likely to be able to learn a spell within six hours? I found one, it's called the Bubble-head Charm, it's quite self explanatory, if we start practising now I think you'd –' Sherlock turned and found Harry's head reading upon one of the books, asleep. 'I'll take that as a "No" then.'

Sherlock slid into one of the seats, listened to John and Harry's heavy breathing and watched as John fidgeted in his seat and muttered something about Molly.

Then it suddenly hit Sherlock like a ton of bricks. _Molly!_

"_Maybe you should look at potions and plants too, you're broadening your options so you're more likely to find a solution_." Sherlock remembered her saying those exact words mere hours ago.

Sherlock ran over to Madam Pince's desk, grabbed some parchment, ink and a quill then scribbled a quick note for Harry and John:

"_Harry – meet me in the Entrance Hall before you go into the grounds for the second task. I have something for you._

_John – Could you put my violin in your dormitory please? I'll meet you there, then we can go to the stands together._"

He left the note between the two boys on the table and took the invisibility cloak that was draped over one of the empty chairs. He hurried down the corridor, deciding that he would steal from Snape's private stores.

He reached his destination without incident. If Snape had said that his potions ingredient were being stolen then surely he would've put some sort of defensive spell on the door to either keep intruders out or alert him if anyone was attempting to break in. Sherlock drew his wand from his pocket and twirled it threw the air.

'Incantamentum revelio!' He muttered. The frame of the door glowed purple and then faded; this told Sherlock all he needed to know, the door was merely locked, there was no major defensive spells on it.

Sherlock turned away from the door, walked across Snape's empty classroom, up the steps from the dungeon into the Entrance Hall and down the steps opposite the dungeons, down to the corridor where the entrance to the Kitchen and Hufflepuff common room resided. He tickled the pear in the portrait of a fruit bowl; the pear then began to giggle and turned into a door handle, and entered the Kitchens.

Half of the house-elves were still awake, having just finished cleaning the school for the night. He took off Harry's invisibility cloak.

'Dobby?' Sherlock called uncertainly amongst the retiring house-elves. 'Dobby?'

'Yes, sir!' One of the house-elves approached him. He wore a tea cosy on his head; pinned with an assortment of badges, a maroon jumper that Sherlock recognised to be one of Ron's, some football shorts and odd socks. The house-elf bowed down low to Sherlock. 'What can Dobby be doing for you, sir?'

'You're Dobby?' Sherlock had only heard Harry mention the elf's name. He was a little dumbfounded about the elf's appearence but recovered immediately.

'Yes sir.'

'I was wonder whether you could do me a favour.'

'Anything, sir.'

'Harry Potter must be down by the lake at half past nine in the morning. I'd like you to go up to the Library at quarter past nine and make sure he gets there on time.'

Dobby's face brightened up. 'Of course sir!'

'One last thing, I left a note for Harry and my friend John Watson, John's with Harry. Make sure they read it. Wave it in their faces if you have to.'

'Dobby won't let you down, sir!'

'Thank you.' Sherlock smiled gratefully at the elf before pivoting and exiting the Kitchen, putting the cloak back on as he went. He exited the side chamber, strode across the Entrance Hall again, descended the steps into the dungeons and walked across Snape's classroom. He retrieved his wand from his sleeve again and began trying different incantations that may assist in his attempts to unlock the door.

Within three hours and four kicks at the door out of frustration, the door clicked and swung open. With a sigh of relief, Sherlock hurried into the store cupboard and searched for what he was looking for.

_Frog's brains… Galanthus Nivalis… Giant Purple Toad Warts…_charming…_ Gillyweed!_

Sherlock took as much of it as he could without making the theft noticeable. He turned to leave when a certain jar caught his eye; _Lacewing Flies_. He turned his attention to the rest of the cupboard; someone had been rummaging in here and carelessly left it in a state. The jar of Boomslang skin was left open as well. Bicorn horns littered the floor and the whole stock of Knotgrass was missing. These ingredients were not usually used together unless someone was making Polyjuice Potion. The door had definitely been locked before Sherlock turned up, the spell used to lock the door had been advanced magic, surely this implied that it had not been a student who broke into the store cupboard.

A beeping noise brought him back to his senses. He glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock in the morning, Snape would be awake any minute now. He closed the door to the cupboard and replaced the locking charm upon it. Now all he had to do was go back to the Entrance Hall and wait for Harry.


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Second Task

**_Disclaimer/ Author's Note:_**_I really need to be more imagnitive... Sorry that this chapter is stupidly late, I've been stupidly busy. I've been having a nice little chat with LarkspurLilMoon though :D Gotta be the highlight off my week so far. This is only a fairly short disclaimer as I have to go out soon -_- Knew I should've gone to bed at a sensible time.  
Thanking Sam very muchly for reading through this for me, don't know what I'd do without out her sometimes. Actually I wouldn't annoy my tutor so much, but where's the fun in that?_  
_I own nothing, I am gaining nothing but amusement from this fanfiction. Everything belongs to Joanne Rowling, Conan Doyle, Warner Bros. and BBC._

TA DA! Enjoy. Bon appetit... in the event that you eat your computer/ laptop/ Kindle/ whatever you're reading this on, that was only a suggestion, that fact that you carried out the action was not against your own will.

**_The Second Task_**

'Did you have a good sleep?' Sherlock asked as he checked his watch. A figure had just stopped in front of him, panting. 'You have five minutes before the second task begins.' Sherlock pulled the Gillyweed out of his coat pocket and handed it to Harry. 'Eat this as soon as the task begins.'

'W-what is it?' Harry panted. Casting the slimy green ball an apprehensive look and clutching a stitch in his side.

'Gillyweed.'

'G-Gillyweed?'

'It will give you gills for exactly one hour.'

'R-right, thanks.'

'Run, you'll be late!' Sherlock watch Harry race through the ground down towards the lake and then he raced up the marble staircase to meet John in the Gryffindor common room. The other students gave him curious looks as he sprinted past them.

Sherlock reached the Gryffindor common room as John walked out of the portrait entrance.

'Did you find a solution to Harry's problem then?' John asked.

'Yes, he's using Gillyweed.' Sherlock replied, he led the way back down the corridor.

'Gillyweed?'

'Yes, Molly gave me the idea. Last night she asked us if we had tried looking though books about plants or potions. Then I remembered Sprout vaguely mentioning the properties of Gillyweed in Herbology once. If anyone in this castle was to be in possession of Gillyweed it would be Snape.'

'You broke into Snape's private stores?'

'Yes, but someone else had been in there before me.'

'How do you know?'

'Jars were left open, ingredients were left on the floor and someone had clearly rummaged through the shelves.'

'What did they take?'

'By the looks of things, I'd say they took a Bicorn Horn, Boomslang Skin, Lacewing Flies and Knotgrass.'

'That's an odd mix…' John looked quizzically at Sherlock.

'Polyjuice Potion.'

'The potion that allows you to take someone else's appearance? You don't think –'

'That we've caught our culprit.' Sherlock smirked. 'It only verifies that someone is taking Polyjuice potion, it is very likely that they put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire.'

'So we can easily find out who it is!'

'No.' Sherlock sighed. 'It only limits our suspects. We now know that it's not a student.'

'Tell Greg. He'll know what to do.'

'No. If we tell Greg he'll act too rationally without thinking of potential results to his reactions. It'll put the culprit on his or her guard and they'll cover up any information that could lead to them. If we let the culprit continue with their plan, their carelessness will lead us straight to them.'

They descended the marble staircase and crossed the Entrance Hall.

'Dumbledore?'

'He's got enough to worry about at the moment, he'll be livid if he found out that I broke into Snape's private stores anyway.'

'You have to tell someone.'

'I'm going to wait.'

'Wait for what?'

'I'm not reporting anything until I have a name and solid evidence to prove my point.'

'You could be endangering lives, Sherlock.'

'If I knew or even suspected that I was endangering lives, I would tell someone immediately.'

The approached the stands and took their seats next to Molly and Mary.

'Where are the champions?' John asked as he scanned the area.

'They started the task twenty-five minutes ago.' Mary replied. 'Where have you two been?'

'Overslept.' Sherlock stared over the grounds as well.

'Really?' Molly sounded astounded. 'That doesn't sound like you at all, Sherlock.'

'I didn't oversleep.' Sherlock moved his gaze over the crowd. 'John and Harry overslept, I haven't slept at all. No Ron and Hermione? I'm not surprised.'

'What?' Mary stared around the crowds as well. 'Where are they?'

'In the lake.' Sherlock yawned.

'What?' Molly and Mary gasped in unison. John's eyes widened in shock.

'It's okay; they're part of the second task. I expected them to do something like this when Ron and Hermione were called to McGonagall's office yesterday.'

'How're they breathing?' John frowned.

'Bubblehead charm, I presume… or an enchanted sleep. They're not in any danger, don't worry.'

'Are we just supposed to sit here and wait for them to resurface or something?' John looked at the girls for an answer.

'Yeah.' Molly nodded.

'How long do you think it'll be until Potter drowns?' Sherlock and John looked around, Draco Malfoy was sitting three rows away from them; sneering down at the little group. 'I'll give him ten more minutes. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he's already drowned.'

'Your insults are lacking their usual sting, Malfoy.' Molly spat. Mary, Sherlock and John whirled around to face her, shocked that she had spoken with such venom in her voice. 'Maybe you should be a comedian, your life is a joke that anyone can laugh at.'

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in a sinister way.

'You'll pay for that, you filthy –'

'Oh really? What are you going to do? Set dumb and dumber on me? Or tell daddy? Ever thought about getting a diary, Malfoy? I don't suppose that could put up with the shit you come out with either. Go and powder your nose or something, it might make an improvement to your face.' Molly turned her nose up at Draco then turned her attention back to her friends. 'Worthless twat.' She muttered.

'Be careful.' Mary warned. 'He won't think twice before hexing you.'

'With Mad-Eye over there? Fat chance.' Mary and Molly glanced at each other then burst into giggles.

'"_Go and powder your nose or something_"?' Mary sniggered. 'Where on Earth did that come from?'

'What are they laughing about?' John asked, casting the two girls a perplexed stare. Sherlock merely shook his head and stared at the girls in amusement and confusion.

'Girls.' Sherlock muttered before turning his attention to the figure staggering out of the lake. 'Fleur?'

The figure stumbled slightly. Madam Pomfrey rushed out to meet her with a blanket; she helped Fleur over to the judge's table. Fleur was then seated in one of the eight chairs set aside for the champions and their hostages and given a Pepper-Up potion.

'Fleur Delacour had failed to retrieve her hostage due to an attack by the Grindylows.' Lugo Bagman's voice boomed over the stands as he turned to give Fleur an encouraging smile, which she didn't return.

The spectators waited for the other champions; talking amongst themselves, debating which champion would arrival with his hostage first. Fleur stared at the murky water with a worried expression.

'Who do you think her hostage was?' John posed. 'It wasn't Roger Davis, was it?'

'No. It was her little sister.' Sherlock gave John a fleeting grin. 'It's nice to see the champions are taking this very seriously though, isn't it?' They watched as Fleur tucked her damp hair behind her ear then proceeded to bit her nails nervously.

'How do you know it was her sister?'

'Davis is over there.' Sherlock nodded towards the Ravenclaw student sitting with Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley. 'Besides, family comes first.'

John raised his eyebrow at Sherlock. 'Of course.' John grinned. 'I always get that impression when you and Mycroft are in the same vicinity.'

'What can I say?' Sherlock grinned back. 'That's brotherly love for you.'

'Sibling rivalry.' John muttered.

Time passed slowly. Staying seated had been too much for Fleur, she was now pacing the length between the judges table and the stands.

'Something's wrong.' Molly frowned. 'The champions should be back by now; their hour is nearly over. You don't think the others have got lost, do you?'

'Wouldn't surprise me.' Sherlock stated.

'How long does that Gillyweed last?' John implored.

'Roughly an hour, give or take a few minutes.' A look of fret spread across John's face. 'Don't worry, he won't drown.'

Two figures surfaced far out over the lake. They were just recognisable; Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. They swam back to shore and were seated and wrapped up in blankets by Madam Pomfrey. The stands erupted with cheers as Cedric and Cho gave a small wave to show that they were fine.

'Cedric Diggory has made it back with his hostage before any other champion.' Ludo's voice reported. Fleur's worried expression deepened and her pace quickened; she was almost on the verge of tears. Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger re-emerged from the water soon after Cedric and Cho; they too were bombarded by Madam Pomfrey. They sat beside Cedric and Cho, comfortably enveloped in blankets, talking quietly amongst themselves with steam producing from their ears as an effect of the Pepper-Up potion. Cho and Cedric were waving at their friends and smiling to the crowd while Madam Maxime attempted to talk to Fleur; who had stopped her pacing and was now staring at the lake in desperation.

Twenty minutes passed before three heads bobbed above the water. The crowd began to natter excitedly, others pointed across the water as more heads rose above the water in a circle around the other three.

'Look!' Mary squealed. 'It's the merpeople!'

'What're they doing?' Molly stood up to get a better look.

'They have to come and tell the judges what happened.' John stared over the lake too, craning his neck and clapping his hands. Fleur almost raced towards the lake to claim her little sister back.

'Gabrielle!' Fleur's shouts were heard over the crowd's cheering. 'Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?'

The two taller figures in the water helped the young girl to her feet. One of the judges, who Sherlock recognised to be Percy Weasley, ran forwards into the water and tightly embraced his younger brother. George and Fred were roaring with laughter a few rows below Sherlock. Fleur had escaped Madam Maxime's clutches and sprinted over to the small group. She hugged the smaller girl as a disgruntled look Madam Pomfrey approached the group, attempting to treat the new arrivals. Dumbledore kneeled by the edge of the lake, talking to the merpeople in the screeching noise they made when they were above water, after a few minutes Dumbledore straightened up again and headed towards the other judges.

'Come on.' John nudged Sherlock. 'Sherlock, move.'

'What?' Sherlock stared in bewilderment. 'Where're we going?'

'To see Harry, Ron and Hermione.' John turned to Mary and Molly. 'Coming or staying?'

'I'm coming.' Molly jumped to her feet; Mary rose to her feet in response as well. Together the small group headed towards the place where the four champions with their hostages sat.

''Lo.' Harry grinned as they approached.

'See you didn't drown.' Sherlock smiled back.

'Ten out of ten for observation.'

'Shame, Malfoy shall be disappointed.'

'Well, I'm sorry if my survival displeases Malfoy.'

'Why did you retrieve Fleur's sister as well?' Mary frowned. 'You were only supposed to return with Ron.'

'He took the egg's clue a little too seriously.' Ron chortled. Harry turned brick red and stared at the floor; cursing his stupidity.

'You can't blame him.' John chipped in. 'He was tired and stressed, he wouldn't really have time to stop and think about possibilities.'

'I think it was very noble of you.' Molly beamed at Harry. 'Even if it was just a task, this shows the courage you'd have in a real life situation.'

'You saved 'er.' Fleur approached the small group. 'Even though she was not your 'ostage.'

'Yeah.' Harry looked up at her and shrugged. Fleur lent forwards and kissed Harry on each cheek, she then turned to Ron.

'And you too – you 'elped.'

'Yeah.' Ron had a hopeful expression on his face. 'Yeah, a bit.' Fleur bent down and kissed him too. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock caught a glimpse of Hermione scowling in Fleur's direction.

'Ladies and Gentlemen!' Ludo Bagman's voice boomed over the grounds once more. 'We have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows… Fleur Delacour, thought she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm –'

'I was going to teach you that one last night.' Sherlock murmured to Harry. 'But apparently sleep was more important.'

'– Was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.'

'I deserve zero.' Fleur muttered staring guiltily at her little sister and the applauding crowd. Molly put her arm around Fleur in comfort.

'You still did really well! You figured out the egg's clue, performed a brilliant charm and got so far in the lake! You deserve every point you get.' Fleur smiled gratefully at Molly and they both turned to listen to the rest of the results.

'Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit.' The Hufflepuffs cheered and waved banners with Cedric's name and the Hufflepuff badger embroidered on them. 'We therefore award him forty-seven points. Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points. Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour –' Sherlock grinned as Harry began to curse his stupidity again. '– However, the Merchieftainess informs us the Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks.' Bagman glared at Karkaroff before continuing. 'However… Mr. Potter's score is forty-five.'

The crowds erupted with applause again. Fleur clapped and beamed at Harry. Krum gave the group a surly glance and tried to regain Hermione's attention.

'There you go, Harry!' Ron laughed. 'You weren't being thick after all – you were showing moral fibre.'

'Well done Harry!' Mary squealed.

'What made you think of Gillyweed?' Hermione queried.

'Sherlock.' Harry responded simply. 'He's like a walking library.'

'A male version of Hermione.' John sniggered. Sherlock snorted.

'The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June.' Bagman concluded. 'The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.'

'Two down, one to go!' Ron expressed excitedly. The champions, their hostages, Sherlock and John were heading back up towards the castle with Madam Pomfrey to dress into dry clothing.

'John. There's a beetle on your robes.' Sherlock picked the insect off of John's robes. The markings on the curled antennas looked familiar, unable to remember where he had seen the markings before, Sherlock flicked the beetle away. He then returned his thoughts to the final task.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Marked Man

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note:**_ _I'm really, really sorry, I've been rendered pretty much useless over the past two weeks because I've been ill (Really did feel like doing anything but sleeping, but me being me, decided not to sleep but try and help around the house and be a social butterfly! I have no social life... apart from college and Facebbok.) I managed to watch the Olympic Ceremony, I want a light-up duvet! Voldemort's back guys! You had one job, Harry, one job! I've also been nagged by mother dearest to get a job (Don't blame her) so I've been looking for Work in the area . So how have you all been?_

_Oh yeah! One of the reviews about the Beetle in the previous chapter. It's not unknown for beetles to emerge in winter and as it was only one beetle it wouldn't really be considered as overly suspicious. You might disagree but I'm attempting to put forward a point of view of someone who hasn't read the books and still doesn't know half the facts (Don't think I'm going well though xD )_

_Thank you once again to Sammie (HAHA! I put "Sammie" rather than "Sammy" again! Take that Sam!) for proof reading this for me ^.^ and to my dearest Sherlock/ Juliet, I've sent it. You should have a package through your door on Monday(?)_

_Once again, I own absolutely nothing! No even this cake *holds up cake* I'm looking after it for Mycroft Holmes... Isn't he on a diet? He's not having the cake back! Anyway, the plot, characters and scenes belong to Joanne Rowling (Happy Birthday for yesterday by the way Joanne... she's not going to see this, but I like putting birthday notices), Conan Doyle, BBC and Warner Bros._

_Good luck making sense of this chapter, I don't even know what's going on! *Regrets Nothing!*_

**_The Marked Man_**

Ron had his share of the limelight in the aftermath of the second task; people asked him what happened down in the lake in huge clusters, whereas the attention Hermione received was not as comforting; she had been taunted by almost everyone because she was "the thing that Viktor Krum would miss most". Ron twisted his tale to make it seem like the merpeople had a great struggle to tie him up, but he soon reverted back to the truth after a rather snappy response from Hermione.

'Freak.' Sherlock and John whirled around to get a better look at the figure that had just passed them in the corridor.

'I thought you left after the second task.' Sherlock walked back towards Sally Donovan. 'What're you doing here?'

'I'm not allowed to tell you that.' Sally drew herself up to her full height with an air of self importance. 'It's none of your business.'

'We know what's going on.' John intervened. 'We just thought that you were only coming down for tasks and events, though.'

'You're not going to trick me into thinking that you two know everything.'

'Greg thinks there's a Death Eater in Hogwarts.' Sherlock stated. 'He thinks the Death Eater put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, but he doesn't think it is Karkaroff.'

'How –?' Sally stared at Sherlock.

'If Lestrade is going to figure something like that out, Sherlock's definitely not going to miss it.' John answered.

'Where do you think Greg gets his information from?' Sherlock smiled slyly.

'You?' Sally heaved a sigh. 'I should've known that you'd have something to do with this. You better not be wasting our time! There are plenty of witches and wizards out there that need to be caught!'

'You mean the ones who are completely innocent or the ones who commit petty crimes?' Sally glowered at Sherlock then turned away and continued walking down the corridor. He didn't speak again until he was out of Sally's earshot 'She's here because Greg told her to be here, she's doesn't know why though. It seems that Greg has finally cottoned onto what's going on. He suspects the culprit to act recklessly between now and the final task too.'

'You've really upset her this time.' John remarked, looking over his shoulder and watching the fuming Sally Donavon prowl away.

'She'll sulk, complain to Anderson and get over it until next time.'

'Why would she complain to Anderson?'

'Couldn't you smell the deodorant? It's for men!' Sherlock smiled at his loyal companion. 'She's spent the night with him.'

* * *

Flustered owls soared over the house tables, swooping down to give letters and parcels to the students. A bleary eyes John walked into the Great Hall, scanning the Ravenclaw table for his best friend.

'John!' Hermione waved to grab his attention then motioned for him to sit next to her.

'Have you seen Sherlock?' John inquired.

'He's right here.' Hermione pointed at the boy sitting next to Ron in deep conversation with Harry. John settled down next to Hermione and poured himself a cup of tea.

'Morning.' Sherlock smiled cheerfully, sliding a parchment envelope across the table. 'Harry wrote a letter for you.'

'Thanks, she's probably checking up on me again.' John yawned. A brown owl with another envelope landed in front of Harry.

'That would be Sirius.' Sherlock watched as Harry took the envelope from the owl's beak.

'"Be at the stile at the end of the road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can."' Harry read out loud.

'He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?' Ron articulated disbelievingly.

'It looks like it, doesn't it?' Hermione sighed.

'I can't believe him.' Harry groaned. 'If he's caught…'

'Made it so far, though, hasn't he?' Ron consoled. 'And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore.'

'No one's going to recognise him.' John said. 'Sirius is smart enough to come in disguise.'

'Calm down.' Sherlock placed a comforting hand on Harry's arm. 'On second thought, panic. We have Double Potions.'

They finished their breakfast then made a slow procession down to the Snape's classroom door. A group of Slytherins huddled together outside the door, sniggering.

'There they are, there they are!' A pug-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson shrieked, nodding toward Sherlock, John, Harry, Ron and Hermione. The Slytherins fell away from their group to show Sherlock and the Gryffindors the magazine that they had been reading; "_Witch Weekly_". The cover bore a smiling, curly-haired witch pointing her wand at a sponge cake. 'You might find something in there to interest you, Granger.' Pansy threw the magazine at Hermione, just before the Snape's classroom door opened. The Potions master stood in the doorway, allowing his eyes to briefly sweep over the students' faces, then beckoning them to enter the room.

Sherlock and John settled down with Harry, Ron and Hermione at the back of the classroom. While the others gathered their ingredients and prepared their cauldrons for the lesson, Hermione ruffled through the magazine under the desk.

'"_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_"?' Sherlock read the title of the article over Hermione's shoulder; they each shared an uneasy look. 'Read it out loud then.'

John took the magazine from Hermione and placed it inside his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_.

'Good thinking.' Ron commented.

'It'll look odd if Hermione's reading instead of making her potion.' John shrugged. 'I can pretend I'm reading the method and mutter the article to you guys.' John began to whisper the contents of the article to the other four.

'"_A boy like no other, perhaps – yet a boy suffering all of the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter –_"'

'That explains it.' Hermione sighed. 'Carry on reading.'

'"_Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger._"'

'Wait.' Harry shared a confused look with Hermione. 'What?'

'You're not – Are you?' John grimaced.

'No!' Hermione whispered frantically. 'No, were not! This is Rita Skeeter, remember?'

'Sorry.' John continued to read the article. '"_Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last Quidditch World Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he had "Never felt this way about any other girl." However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys. _

"_She's really ugly,' says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "But she'd be well up for making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it. Although, it's more likely that she's receiving help from a friend, Sherlock Holmes. He's very brainy, makes her seem average."_"'

'I'm flattered.' Sherlock muttered.

'"_Sherlock Holmes has a notorious reputation for disregarding rules and even offending teachers, as Love Potions are banned at Hogwarts it would not be surprising if he were to make them and sell them onto other students. He is also known to have supported Rebus Hagrid the half giant._

"Sherlock? He's quite a creepy guy." Zacharias Smith, a fellow fourth year. "He knows pretty much anything about annoy one just by looking at the clothes they wear. I think he's quite disturbed."

_It has been reported that Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Watson –_" Partner?' John looked up from the magazine. 'What is she implying?'

'I wouldn't worry about it too much, John.' Sherlock shook his head. 'She's just trying to add insult to injury.'

'"_Have recently become very close friends with Mr. Potter and Miss. Granger._

"_She probably planned this.' Pansy tells us. "It'll help make Potter an easy target. She may also fancy Sherlock, she'll have the smartest student in the school wrapped around her little finger as well as two famous wizards." _

_No doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate the claims of Love Potions and the uses his students are putting them to. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart, and loyalty, on worthier candidates._"' John finished the article and stared at the others. 'Well… that was insightful.'

'I told you!' Ron murmured. 'I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of – of scarlet woman!'

'Scarlet woman?' Hermione snorted with laughter.

'It's what my mum calls them.' Ron's ears started to turn red.

'Why did she write about you though?' Harry asked Sherlock. 'You haven't done anything.'

'That's not entirely true.' Sherlock gave Harry an innocent smile. 'One insult and she's onto me like a Bowtruckle on woodlice.'

'If that's the best Rita can do then she's loosing her touch.' Hermione rolled her eyes. 'What a load of rubbish.'

'Can't blame her though.' John thought out loud, throwing the magazine onto an empty chair. 'She did have the Slytherins working with her too… their standards have slipped.'

The Slytherins had been watching to see their reaction; even Jim Moriarty had temporarily allowed his curiosity get the better of him. Hermione gave them a cynical grin, waved then continued making her Wit-Sharpening potion. They continued their potions in silence for another ten minutes before Hermione spoke again.

'There's something funny, though. How could Rita Skeeter have known?'

'Known what?' Ron looked up. 'You haven't had him –' Ron nodded at Sherlock. 'Making Love Potions for you, have you?'

'"Him" has a name, you know?' Sherlock mumbled.

'Don't be stupid!' Hermione snapped, disregarding Sherlock's comment. 'No, it's just… how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?' She blushed violently and immediately turned her gaze to the mortar that she was crushing scarab beetles in. Ron's pestle landed with a thud on the table.

'What?'

'He asked me right after he pulled me out of the lake. After he got rid of the shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to –'

'And what did you say?' Ron asked through gritted teeth.

'Jealousy!' Sherlock literally sang the words and received two simultaneous nudges from Harry and John. Ron and Hermione hadn't paid him any attention.

'And he did say that he'd never felt the same way about anyone else, but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there… or was she? Maybe she has got an invisibility cloak; maybe she sneaked into the grounds to watch the second task…'

'And what did you say?' Ron repeated angrily.

'Told you it was jealousy.' Sherlock sniggered.

'Well, I was busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to –' Hermione began, but her sentence was cut short by the leering potions master.

'Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger. I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor.' Sherlock could hear the Slytherins laughing heartedly behind Snape's back. 'Ah… reading magazines under the table as well?' Snape continued, picking up the copy of _Witch Weekly_. 'A further ten points from Gryffindor and ten points form Ravenclaw.' Snape's eyes hovered over Sherlock's face.

'Go ahead.' Sherlock smiled. 'Got plenty more, I can earn them back easily.'

'A further ten points from Ravenclaw.' Snape glowered at the teen. 'For talking out of term.'

'Your attempts to chastise me are very amusing. Do carry on.'

Snape ignored the last comment and turned to the middle pages of the magazine.

'"_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache_"… Dear, dear Potter, what's ailing you now?' Snape continued to read the whole article out loud for the whole class to hear. The Slytherins sniggered as Snape's made snide comments and sneered at quotations throughout the article. 'Well. I think I had better separate the five of you, so you can keep your minds on potions rather than your tangled love lives –'

'At least our fictional love life has more meaning to it than your very existence.' Sherlock muttered.

'Do you ever know when to shut up?' John hissed.

'Just stating the facts, that's what school it ab – Ouch!' Someone had aimed a kick at Sherlock from beneath the table.

'Weasley, you stay here.' Snape barked ignoring Sherlock's pained expression. 'Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter – that table in front of my desk. Watson, you go over there, between Thomas and Finnigan and Holmes –'

'That's Mr. Holmes to you.'

Snape lowed his voice and leaned towards Sherlock, who didn't flinch away. 'You are in enough trouble as it is; I recommend you shut it now. Holmes, you will sit beside Mr. Malfoy… now move, all of you!' Snape stood up to his full height and walked towards his desk. John, Harry and Hermione moved to the new seats Snape had given them. Sherlock hadn't moved from his seat, instead he rested his feet on the table and positioned himself comfortable in his chair.

'I told you to move.' It had taken Snape ten minutes to realise that Sherlock had not moved.

'I didn't hear a "please" last time you rudely asked me to move.'

'I am your professor; you should be doing as you are told, when you are told.'

'If you're a professor then maybe you should stop taunting Mr. Potter and turn your attention to the rest of the class.' Sherlock gave the room a sweeping look. 'I must insist that you see to Gregory Goyle's latest disaster. I don't think his cauldron should be foaming like that... I think he's added too much Armadillo Bile.'

'Don't tell me how to conduct my lesson.'

'Just did.'

'Twenty more points from Ravenclaw –'

'Fine by me.'

'And a week's worth of detention. Now move to the seat beside Mr. Malfoy.'

'Sorry,' Sherlock cupped his hand around his own ear and leaned closer to Snape. 'Don't think I heard that.' Snape's scowl deepened, Sherlock was sure that he had never seen Snape this angry before.

'Move... Now!'

'No, I'm sorry.' Sherlock sighed and frowned at the potions master 'Didn't think I heard a "please" on the end of that.'

'You niggling little –'

'As long as I'm bothering you, I don't particularly care, professor.' Sherlock smiled pleasantly. 'Oh, I've finished my potion by the way.' Sherlock pointed at a crystal phial set beside his cauldron. 'Perhaps you should sit down, sir. You're causing a scene and distracting the students from their work, don't want our grades to slip now do we?'

Snape opened his mouth to continue chastising the arrogant teen, but a knock upon the classroom door wrenched his attention away from Sherlock. Snape settled himself down at his desk before responding to the person who had knocked upon the door.

'Enter.' Snape curtly called out to the waiting visitor. The door creaked as it opened, Igor Karkaroff nervously edged into the room. All eyes were on him as he strode over to Snape, twisting his goatee around his finger and glancing around anxiously.

'We need to talk.' Karkaroff said shortly, stopping abruptly before Snape's desk.

'I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff –' Snape muttered, pretending to be immersed with the parchment in front of him. Sherlock gazed at the ceiling, listening to the conversation between the two men. He saw slow movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the source of the movement; Harry. Harry was obviously listening in on the two men too.

'I want to talk to you now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me.' Karkaroff continued.

'After the lesson.' Snape snarled dangerously.

Sherlock watched Harry hold up a measuring cup or Armadillo Bile. Obviously trying to take a glance at Snape and Karkaroff.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk throughout the whole lesson; he leaned on the wall, twisting his goatee around his finger again whilst watching Snape intently. Sherlock had watched John throughout most of the lesson. He turned his gaze back to Harry. He suddenly had an idea. Harry had left his bottle of Armadillo Bile fairly close to the edge of the desk, close enough to make it seem as though the bottle had fallen by accident.

Sherlock gave Snape a fleeting look; ensuring that he was definitely mesmerised in the homework he was marking. Sherlock then drew his wand out under the table and positioned himself to he would be able to hit the bottle of Armadillo Bile without being detected by Karkaroff, Snape or Harry. He was sure that Harry would instantly glance around at Sherlock, bringing the issue to Snape's attention at the same time.

'Depulso!' Sherlock mumbled, twirling his wand under the desk. He watched in satisfaction as the spell made contact with the bottle of Armadillo Bile, Harry had deliberately reached out and knocked it over at the exact same moment that Sherlock's spell had hit it.

'Huh?' Ron looked up from his cauldron and stared at Sherlock.

'What?' Sherlock looked at Ron.

'What did you say?' Ron frowned.

'I didn't say anything.'

'Yes you did, just now.'

'I coughed.' Sherlock lied quickly.

'Oh… okay.' Ron returned to his potion, accepting Sherlock's fib, without further question. Sherlock slid out of his seat, ducked beneath the table and crawled to Harry.

'Let me help.' Sherlock whispered. Harry nodded in response.

The bell sounded to signal the end of the lesson. The rest of the class nosily packed their books, ingredients and potions away then headed to the Great Hall for lunch. John headed towards Sherlock and Harry, but was instantly waved away. Casting the pair a curious look, John followed Ron and Hermione out of the classroom door.

'What's so urgent?' Sherlock heard Snape's hiss sound from somewhere above Harry and himself.

'_This_!' Karkaroff replied in a fretful voice. Sherlock and Harry shared an inquisitive stare. The both moved slowly and soundlessly to peer around the edge of Harry's cauldron. Karkaroff had pulled up the left sleeve of his robes to reveal an oddly shaped tattoo on his inner forearm, it was hard to distinguish what the tattoo was supposed to resemble as it was slightly blurred. 'Well.' Karkaroff continued. Harry and Sherlock ducked back under the table to continue listening without detection. 'Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since –'

'Put it away!' Scowled Snape.

'But you must have noticed –'

'We can talk later, Karkaroff! Potter! Holmes! What are you doing?'

Sherlock mouthed something that looked a lot like "Fuck!" before glaring at the floor in a disappointed manner.

'Clearing up my Armadillo Bile, professor.' Harry called out innocently as he stood up to full height, holding a soaked rag in his right hand. Sherlock straightened up too. Karkaroff stared in disbelief before hastily marching out of the room with an angry expression.

Sherlock and Harry gathered up Harry's books, ingredients and bag and left the room almost as fast as Karkaroff had. They waited until they knew that they were out of earshot of Snape's classroom door before stopping to stow Harry's books and ingredients away in his bag.

'That was fun.' Sherlock chuckled. 'Don't you think?'

Harry smiled at Sherlock. 'I don't think Snape enjoyed it. What was that thing on his arm?'

'I couldn't see it that well.' Sherlock sighed. 'It looked like a skull to me, but there was something coming out of the skull's mouth.' Sherlock thought for a moment. 'Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup?' Harry nodded. 'Do you remember that thing that appeared over the forest?'

'The Dark Mark?'

'Yeah.' Sherlock nodded. 'The thing on Karkaroff's arm looked like that.'

'Why would Karkaroff have the Dark Mark on his arm?'

'I suppose it's Voldemort's way of marking his followers… but why would the Dark Mark become clearer?' Sherlock asked himself. The pair of them set of towards the Great Hall again and another thought struck Sherlock's mind. 'Tell me Harry, how has your scar been feeling lately?'


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Meeting Padfoot

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note: **I do believe that I owe you old chaps an update... TA DA!Again, this is a lot like the book . I'm sorry, I will eventually get round to writing my own material again soon. I don't know when my next update will be, ever since I finished college for the summer my time has gone all wibbly wobbly.  
My Beta (Sam) had left me for a while, she's gone on holiday to what I can only presume is a muddy field (I think she's gone camping anyway) in which case, she might as well have stayed on Canvey Island. Also, I'm sorry if I rattle on about Hedgehogs in the future, I'm trying to convince my mum to let me get one next year -_- not working._

_I'd like to thank Sam for giving this a quick proof-read before she hastily departed and I'd also like to thank Narisse who has read through this for me and corrected my appalling grammar and spelling. She also added/ changed content to the story, so if there's anything truly amazing in here it's her you have to thank xD_

_**Meeting Padfoot**_

'Oi!' John jogged to catch up with Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were just walking past Dervish and Banges. 'Sherlock asked if you guys could wait up.'

'Where is he?' Ron looked around for him with a slightly bemused expression. 'He's not going to jump out of nowhere and attack us, is he?'

'He's over there.' John pointed at the figure strolling past Honeydukes, a bag slung over his shoulder. 'I ran ahead to catch up, but he's more intent on going at his own pace.'

'I thought you two would be with Mary and Molly.' Hermione stated.

'We want to meet Padfoot.' Sherlock said, stopping short in front of the group.

'Padfoot?' Harry stared, astonished, at Sherlock. 'How do you –?'

'John told me that you talk in your sleep. Padfoot… a dog… dogs have padded feet… Sirius… put two and two together, Harry, it's not rocket science.' Sherlock's eyes twinkled mischievously as he shook his head in amusement and scorn. Sherlock continued walking down the road. 'Come on then.' He called over his shoulder. 'Can't keep Uncle Pads waiting; he's bursting to see you, Harry.'

After sharing half confused, half exasperated looks, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed Sherlock and John down the road towards the Stile.

They were met by the wild countryside as they walked out of Hogsmeade. They followed the winding path towards the foot of the mountains, which cast a huge shadow over the village of Hogsmeade. As they approached the Stile, a small, black figure came into focus. The black, shaggy dog rested his front paws on the topmost bar, his tail wagging frantically. He also had newspapers clamped in his mouth.

'Hello, Sirius.' Harry greeted the dog with a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ear. The dog caught sight of Sherlock and John, and began to growl with his hackles raised. 'No! Sirius, they're okay! They're friends.' Harry soothed the dog, which cast Sherlock and John a passing look. Apparently trusting Harry's word, the dog turned away from them and began to trot across the ground and up the rocky foot of the mountain. Sherlock, John, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed the dog high up the mountain, it wasn't long before they were out of breath and the muscles in their arms and legs began to ache.

They finally came to rest in a small, cool, dimly lit cave. With six people and a hippogriff in such a small space, a claustrophobic feeling hung over them. Each of the teenagers bowed to the grey hippogriff, who bowed back and permitted Hermione and John to approach him and stroke his feathers.

'I did wonder where he got off to… Buckbeak, isn't it?' John voiced as he stroked the half giant eagle, half horse. Sherlock nodded. Then turned his attention to the dog, which was now the man he recognised to be Sirius Black.

The ragged clothes he wore didn't do much to help his complexion. He was skinny, he's eyes were gaunt and his ghostly face was framed by dark matted, filthy hair.

'Chicken!' Sirius's voice was hoarse from lack of use. He threw the Daily Prophets onto the floor beside him. Harry opened his bag and gave Sirius the chicken and bread along with a flask of Pumpkin Juice that he had retrieved from the depths of his bag.

'I picked up a few things for you,' Sherlock said, opening the bag that he had brought with him. He withdrew three boxes from the bag; one had a piece of strawberry cheesecake, the second had six chocolate éclairs within it and the third contained an assortment of sandwiches, Sherlock also took three bottles of Butterbeer, a Honeydukes chocolate bar and bottle full of orange juice. 'Better than nothing,' Sherlock shrugged, acknowledging the flabbergasted appearance upon Sirius's face.

'Thanks, so... what are your names?' Sirius smiled gratefully at the teens and indicated to Sherlock and John before he sat down on the floor and began eating the chicken. Sherlock didn't answer, but studied Sirius, the cave, the hippogriff and everything around him. John cast a quick, exasperated look at Sherlock before answering, 'I'm John Watson, and my frien—colleague is Sherlock Holmes. We became friends with these three,' he gestured to Harry, Ron and Hermione, 'after Sherlock... well figured out that you were innocent and Harry was in contact with you... he does that kind of thing.' John finished somewhat awkwardly. Sirius looked with new surprise and interest at the dark-haired Ravenclaw in the cave with them, but he simply nodded and turned his attention back to the group at large. 'I've been living off of rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself.'

'What're you doing here, Sirius?' Harry frowned slightly.

'Fulfilling my duty as godfather. Don't worry about me; I'm pretending to be a lovable stray.' Sirius gnawed on the chicken bone hungrily before casting it away. He caught sight of Harry's expression. 'I want to be on the spot. Your last letter… well lets just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried.'

'What if they catch you?' Harry stared at Sirius. 'What if you're seen?'

Feeling awkward, Sherlock picked up one of the yellowing newspapers and read the main article; "_Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch_". Intrigued by the headline, Sherlock continued to read the article; sitting on the ground opposite Sirius.

'You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an animagus.' Sirius shrugged. 'Well, you five, I guess.'

Sherlock's eyes continued to scan through the article. 'Dear me… "Hasn't been seen in public since November… house appears deserted… St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies decline comment… Ministry refuses to confirm rumours of critical illness…"'

'They make it sound like he's dying.' Harry said slowly, acknowledging the quotations that Sherlock had read out. 'But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…'

'Wait… what?' Sherlock looked up from the newspaper to stare at Harry; he wasn't told about this.

'My brother's Crouch's personal assistant.' Ron informed them. 'He says Crouch is suffering from overwork.'

'Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close.' Harry thought aloud. 'The night my name came out of the Goblet…'

'Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?' Hermione's voice was cold. 'I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now – bet he feels the difference now that she's not there to look after him.'

'Hermione's obsessed with house-elves.' Ron mumbled to Sirius.

'Obsessed is an understatement.' Sherlock didn't bother to quieten his voice, he knew Hermione would hear it one way or another.

'Crouch sacked his house-elf?' Sirius asked with interest.

'Yeah.' John answered.

'At the Quidditch World Cup.' Harry finished. With help from Ron and Hermione, (and the occasional unhelpful comment from Sherlock; John didn't bother telling him to shut up, he knew he would just be wasting his breath) Harry told Sirius about the incident with the Dark Mark and Winky, the house-elf, at the Quidditch World Cup. By the time they had finished explaining what had happened, Sirius had rose to his feet and started pacing around the small cave.

'Let me get this straight.' Sirius furrowed his brow. 'You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?'

'Right.' Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed.

'But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?'

'No. I think he said he'd been too busy.' Harry replied.

'Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?'

'Erm…' Harry paused for a moment to think. 'No.' said Harry slowly. 'I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying that whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?'

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Sherlock answered first.

'Most likely. _Think_ about it. You're sitting in the Top Box, everyone around you is engrossed in the Quidditch match and the person sitting in front of you has a wand protruding out of his pocket. If you're going to commit a crime, why use your own wand? Why not use someone else's? Technically, you're still planting the evidence of the crime on the owner of that wand, as long as you're not caught with the wand. All you have to do is reach out and grab it –' Sherlock pretended to take something out of the air. 'No one's going to notice, everyone is to busy watching the Quidditch match to see someone taking a wand out of someone else's pocket.' A vacant expression came over Sherlock's face, followed by silent staring from everyone else in the cave.

'He does that.' John said again, clearing his throat loudly. 'Just leave him, he'll be extremely annoyed if you interrupt his thinking.'

'Winky didn't steal that wand!' Hermione shrieked, jumping to the conclusion that Sherlock suspected Winky.

'The elf wasn't the only one in that box.' Sirius said. 'Who else was sitting behind you?'

'Loads of people.' Harry responded. 'Some Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge… the Malfoys…'

'The Malfoys!' Ron interjected loudly. Buckbeak tossed his head in an irritable way. 'I bet it was Lucius Malfoy.'

'Anyone else?' Sirius asked.

'No one.' Said Harry.

'Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman.' Hermione corrected him.

'Oh yeah…'

'I don't know anything about Bagman, except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps.' Said Sirius thoughtfully. 'What's he like?'

'He's OK.' Harry shrugged. 'He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament.'

'Does he now? I wonder why he'd do that?'

'Says he's taken a liking to me.'

'Hmm…'

'We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared.' Hermione notified Sirius, she then turned to Harry and Ron. 'Remember?'

'Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?' Ron contradicted. 'The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite.'

'How d'you know?' Hermione argued back. 'How d'you know where he Disapparated to?'

'Come off it!' Ron laughed in disbelief. 'Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?'

'It's more likely he did it than Winky.' Hermione pouted dismissively.

'Told you.' Ron said, turning his gaze back to Sirius. 'Told you she's obsessed with house –' Sirius held up his hand to silence Ron.

'When the Dark Mark had been conjured,' Sirius gave each of them a meaningful look. 'And the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?'

'Went to look in the bushes.' Harry replied. 'But there wasn't anyone else there.'

'Of course… of course he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf… and then he sacked her?'

'Yes.' Hermione snapped angrily. 'He sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled.'

'Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf.' Ron expressed though gritted teeth.

'She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron.' Sirius replied, shaking his head. 'If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals… all these absences of Barty Crouch's…'

'Yes, it is rather suspicious, isn't it?' Sherlock articulated from the ground, picking up the next yellowing newspaper, he held it in his lap and, rather than reading the paper, turned his attention to the conversation. 'And the way he behaved before his illness… definitely not in the right state of mind, is he?'

Sirius nodded at Sherlock in agreement. 'He goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… it's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness, I'll eat Buckbeak.'

'D'you know Crouch, then?' Harry asked.

Sirius's face darkened and a scowl played across his face. He clenched his fists and began to quiver with anger.

'Barty Crouch was the man who gave the order for Sirius to be sent to Azkaban.' Sherlock spoke from the floor, he glanced up at Sirius. 'Without trial.'

'What?' Hermione gasped.

'You're kidding!' exclaimed Harry.

'That's not fair!' John yelled.

'No he's not kidding.' Sirius smiled grimly at Sherlock. 'Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Didn't you know?' Sirius turned his attention to John, Harry, Ron and Hermione; they all shook their heads. 'I trust you knew.' Sirius nodded at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to John, Harry, Ron and Hermione. 'The magical community adored Crouch. He was powerful and his leadership skills were something to be admired.'

'He was never a Voldemort supporter.' Sirius cut in, seeing Harry's anxious expression. 'No, Barty was always very outspoken against the Dark side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young.' Sherlock gave an arrogant snort.

'That's what my dad said at the World Cup.' Huffed Ron, folding his arms tightly over his chest looking disgruntled. 'Try us, why don't you?'

'If you don't we could always get Sherlock to "deduct" it, anyway.' John joked. 'And we won't stop him when he gets carried away.'

'You mean, _you_ won't stop him when he gets carried away.' Hermione laughed. 'We don't know how to stop him.'

'Nor do I.' John confessed.

Sirius grinned. 'That's very tempting.' He cast Sherlock a searching look. 'But I think I'll pass… All right, I'll try you…' He paced around in the small cave for a while. 'Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him; you know that he can control people and make them do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, your family –'

'They can take Mycroft, maybe they'll take his cake away as torture.' Sherlock grumbled. John gave him a "you don't mean that" look.

'- And your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic is in disarray, they don't know what they're doing, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles –'

'Nothing new there, then.' Sherlock chuckled lightly.

'- But meanwhile, Muggles are dying too… terror everywhere… panic… confusion, that's how it used to be… well, times like that bring out the best in some people, and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning – I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers – powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one handed to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorised the use of Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark side. He had his supporters, mind you – plenty of people thought that he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister for Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got top job. But then something unfortunate happened…' Sirius smiled grimly again.

'What happened?' John asked when Sirius didn't elaborate.

'Crouch's son was caught.' Sherlock said simply. 'They brought him in with three other of Death Eaters. Trying to find Voldemort and bring him back to power.'

'Crouch's son was caught?' Hermione breathed.

'Yep.' Sirius rejoined as he sat on the ground and picked up the loaf of bread. 'Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… got to know his son.' Sirius tore the loaf of bread in half and hungrily ripped off large chunks with his teeth.

'Was his son a Death Eater?' Harry posed.

'No idea.' Sirius swallowed the mouthful of bread and continued. 'I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters– but he might've been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like that elf.'

'It's possible,' Sherlock thought aloud. 'But very unlikely… Crouch's son; not the elf.' He added, seeing another "Elf Rights" talk from Hermione emerging.

'Did Crouch try and get his son off?' Hermione queried in a low voice. Sirius gave a harsh laugh.

'Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione? Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister for Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again – doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial and, by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy… then he sent him straight to Azkaban.'

'He gave his own son to the Dementors?' Asked Harry quietly.

'That's horrible.' John whispered.

'That's right.' Sirius nodded gravely. 'I saw the Dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…' Sirius started at the opposite wall for a while, a ghostly expression planted on his face.

'So he's still in Azkaban?' Harry tried to draw Sirius out of his memories, wishing he hadn't seen his Godfather looking so vulnerable.

'No.' Sirius sighed. 'No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after he was brought in.'

'He died?' Ron stared at Sirius in shock.

'He wasn't the only one.' Sirius's tone had become sour. 'Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the Dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterwards. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress, I watched them do it. So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment a hero, poised to become Minister for Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards him, and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Co-operation.' During the silence that followed, Sirius drained the flask of Pumpkin Juice. Sherlock looked around at his fellow peers; John was avoiding everyone's gaze by fiddling with the lace of his trainers, Hermione stared at Sirius; her face pale and tears welling in her eyes, Harry sat on the floor beside Sherlock in deep thought; that's a first, and Ron pretended to look around the cave in mild curiosity. It was clear that no one was particularly comfortable with the topic.

'Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards.' Harry said quietly, looking up at Sirius.

'Yeah, I heard it's become a bit of a mania with him.' Sirius nodded. 'If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater.'

'And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!' Ron informed Sirius with a triumphant tone in his voice.

'Yes.' Sirius said thoughtfully. 'That doesn't make sense at all.'

'Yeah, it does!' Ron countered excitedly. John saw Sherlock open his mouth to speak; catching the Ravenclaw's eye, John shook his head to silence the other boy. Sherlock closed his mouth and dropped his gaze to the floor with a disappointed expression.

'Listen,' Sirius began, shaking his head at Ron. 'If Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the Tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him.'

'So, you think Snape could be up to something?' Harry asked.

'Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape –' Hermione started in an aggravated tone.

'Oh, come off it, Hermione.' Ron argued impatiently. 'I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him –'

'Ron, Snape's a school teacher!' John added, supporting Hermione. 'Dumbledore wouldn't hire someone who is going to spend every day around students if they're a potential threat.'

'Oh! You get to add your input!' Sherlock shot at John.

'There's a time and a place, Sherlock! Now's really not it!'

Ron and Hermione had continued their argument over Sherlock and John's.

'Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then?' said Hermione piercingly. 'Why didn't he just let him die?'

'I dunno – maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out –' Ron retorted.

Sirius gave the four arguing teens a perplexed look; unsure of who was yelling what at the other.

'What do you think, Sirius?' Harry yelled over the others. Ron, Hermione, Sherlock and John quietened down to listen to Sirius's reply.

'I think Ron, Hermione and John have a point.' Said Sirius. 'I'm have no idea what you were on about.' He gave Sherlock a slightly puzzled stare as he said it, Sherlock shook his head and threw John a disgruntled glance. 'Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated in the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was. Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters. Rosier and Wilkes – they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell.' Sirius held up two fingers and sat in thought for a moment before he held up more fingers, listing more names. 'The Lestranges – they're a married couple – they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard, he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius curse – he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater – not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble.'

'Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well.' Ron pointed out. 'But he wants to keep that quiet.'

'Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday.' Harry added.

'Karkaroff wanted to speak to Snape.' Sherlock said, seeing Sirius's mystified expression. 'He said that Snape had been avoiding him, so he stood behind Snape's desk so Snape couldn't slip away at the end of the lesson.'

'You two mentioned something about Karkaroff showing Snape a mark on his arm.' John reminded them, looking at Harry and Sherlock.

'We couldn't quite see what it was though.' Harry frowned.

'He showed Snape something on his arm?' Sirius looked at each of their faces in bemusement. 'Well, I've no idea what that's about… but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers… then there's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he ever worked for Voldemort.'

'Why are Crouch and Moody so keen to get into Snape's office, then?' Ron argued stubbornly.

'I heard that Moody's paranoid about everything and anything these days.' John said quietly. 'He probably searched every single teacher's office.'

'He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody.' Sirius added. 'I'm not sure that he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though; he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough but never descended to the level of the Death Eater. Crouch though… he's a different matter… is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not… what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should've been judging the Tournament?'

Sirius fell silent, staring at the cave wall again whilst receiving four bewildered looks; Sherlock simply sat in a disgruntled silence. Buckbeak, who had been eating the chicken bones that Sirius had tossed away, was searching for more bones on the ground; his talons scrapping the ground were the only sound that could be heard.

'If Percy is Crouch's assistant, could we send him a letter?' John suggested. 'Just to ask if he's actually seen Crouch lately. Surely he's receiving instructions from him.'

'We can try.' Ron gave a doubtful shrug. 'We better not make it sound like we think Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch.'

'Love being the world's biggest understatement.' Sherlock remarked. Hermione threw Sherlock a disapproving look. 'Hermione, we've known each other for four months now. I would've thought that you, of all people, would've learnt that I say it how it is.'

'And sometimes people don't want to hear it.' Hermione snorted reproachfully.

'No, I'm sure people would rather be hurt with the truth rather than flattered with lies.'

'That's not always the case Sher –'

'Will you two pack it in?' Ron chastised them.

'What about Bertha Jorkins?' Sirius brought the youths back to their surroundings. 'Have the Ministry got any leads on her?'

'Bagman told me they hadn't.' Harry confided in the group.

'Bagman's excuse is that she's awfully forgetful.' Sherlock motioned towards the newspaper that he had thrown to one side earlier. John cast the newspaper an interested glance, picked it up and ruffled through the pages.

'I see Fudge is finally involved.' John pointed at the article. 'They should've started looking sooner.'

'Forgetful?' Sirius gave the tabloid a suspicious glare. 'I knew her. She went to school with me, trust me, she was anything but forgetful.'

'She was a bit of a gossip-girl then?' Sherlock enquired.

Sirius scowled faintly. 'Didn't know when to shut up. Got her into a lot of trouble… you lot had better get back up to the school.' Sirius glimpsed at Sherlock's watch. 'It is half past three already.'

They each rose to their feet and stroked Buckbeak's feathers before turning to say goodbye to Sirius.

'Right, I don't want any of you, including you two…' Sirius turned his gaze onto Sherlock and John. 'To sneak out of the school grounds to see me, all right? Just send me notes, I still want to hear if there is anything odd going on… I'll be able to breathe freely when this tournament is over. I'll walk you to the edge of the village.'

Harry led the way out of the cave, followed by Ron, Hermione and John. Sherlock, however, remained where he stood.

'I can tell by your expression,' Sherlock began. 'That was not all of what you wanted to say.'

'Just… look after him, okay.' Sirius replied quietly. 'He's all I have left.'

Sherlock remained expressionless. 'Neither was that. You want to warn us about Death Eaters in Hogwarts. You didn't mention it because you're worried that we'll act illogically and get ourselves in trouble.' Sirius merely stared at Sherlock. 'You have nothing to worry about, Sirius. If anything happens, you have my word that I'll turn to Dumbledore, Moody, or Greg Lestrade.' Sirius nodded; accepting Sherlock spoken contract.

'Are you two coming?' John approached the cave again.

'Right behind you.' Sirius beamed. He then transfigured into a black, bear-like dog and followed Sherlock and John to the bottom of the mountain where Harry, Ron and Hermione stood waiting.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Thestrals Trials Tasks

_**Disclaimer/ Author's Note:** How many centuries have passed? I am really sorry (so I say, I really regret nothing *waits for Sam to beat me up*), I know some of you have inboxed me asking when I'm updating again... the answer is now... and whether the end of A Study In Magic is drawing closer... I can reliably inform you that, to the displeasure of many Hogwarts Professors, Sherlock Hollmes and his companion; John Watson, will be returning for their fifth year, but I can't keep this FanFic going on forever, unless you reallywanted it to be updated once every six years; "Congrats! It's a boy!" Uh huh, just pop him on my lap. Lemme just update this and watch previous episodes of Doctor Who, Sherlock and Merlin."_  
_... Yeah._  
_So in my absense I may have cheekily started writing more fanfictions... like the one about the bus... and the Merlin-Harry Potter Crossover. My "Agent" has also given me a list of fanfiction ideas xD I've put a poll up, you should be able to reach it from my profile._  
_Thank you to Sam, for nagging me into updating and a thank you to LarkspurLilMoon for correcting my grammar and improving my phrasing (Seriously, my grammar is atrocious!)_

_And now for the usual: I own absolutely NOTHING! Everything belongs to - NEW BOOK! NEW BOOK! NEW BOOK! *hugs new book* I love the smell of new books ^_^ MINE! BACK OFF!  
Enjoy :D_

_**Testrals, Trials and Tasks**_

Sherlock spent the next few months sending regular packages of food from the school kitchens to Sirius ('He can't keep living off of rats, John.' Sherlock had proclaimed when John had given him a nonplussed stare. 'Absolutely no nutritional value, he'll get ill.') Sherlock had annoyingly bewitched an alarm clock so it would ring at six-thirty every morning and there would be no way to shut it up until everyone in the Gryffindor dormitory was awake. Hermione had received hate mail from _Witch Weekly_ readers during breakfast a week after they had visited Sirius, she wasn't the only victim; Sherlock also had letters containing threats and insults addressed to him. ('"You foul excuse of a human being! How could you help that disgusting minx play Harry along like that? You should be expelled and forced to live with muggles!"' Sherlock had read out loud. 'Is this supposed to be offensive? Oh! Look, a howler! I've always wanted one of these, they seem quite amusing!')After being sent numerous letters containing more abuse and intimidation, Hermione's desire to find out how Rita Skeeter obtained her information rekindled. ('Honestly, Hermione.' Sherlock sighed during one of their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, he lowered his voice as Moody passed them, giving out their marked homework. 'There's a Death Eater skipping merrily around the school and you're still worrying about silly little news articles!') Percy had replied to the letter that Ron had sent him; questioning whether he had seen Crouch lately and, as predicted, Percy's reply was short and irritable: "_As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumours. Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter._"

More and more rumours about the final task floated around the school (apparently Fleur had mentioned something about finding treasure) and the champions had found out what the final task truly was the previous night.

'A maze?' John asked staring at Harry in disbelief. 'So after battling dragons and fighting off water demons you have to work your way through a maze?'

'Well, the maze will obviously have obstacles.' Sherlock rolled his eyes at John. 'Even Anderson would be able to work that out on his own… this means we have exactly one month to catch our little Death Eater, before he tries to kill Harry!' Sherlock leaped from the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, filled with sudden excitement. 'This is brilliant!'

'Glad you think so.' Stated Harry in an offended tone.

'Don't you see?'

'See what?' Ron asked incredulously.

'Dear lord, it's like I'm talking to a brick wall… how did I ever become acquainted with you lot?'

'By showing off.' John scowled.

'That was a rhetorical question, John. The Death Eater will begin to act irrationally; this will be their last chance to kill Harry. We must be more observant, even over the professors we know and trust, they could be an impostor in disguise.' Sherlock received four discombobulated stares as he began to talk to himself. 'The Death Eater would need to ensure that he has a good disguise that would be almost undetectable… Lacewing flies… Boomslang Skin… Bicorn Horn… Knotgrass…'

* * *

'They're some of the ingredients used to make Polyjuice Potion, aren't they?' Hermione inquired with a thoughtful expression on her face.

'Dear me, Sherlock. Is that a smile I see?' Mycroft came to a halt in front of the pair, the smile slowly sliding off of Sherlock's face. 'Actually, I need a word.'

'Just the one?' Sherlock asked with mock interest. 'There's plenty to choose from. I'd pick elementary; has a nice ring to it. It makes me think of Lestrade.'

'This isn't a laughing matter, Sherlock.'

'I'm not laughing. Are you laughing, John?' Sherlock turned and stared intently at John who looked at the floor, deciding not to get involved.

'I want you to be careful.'

'Here he goes!'

'Sherlock, I'm _serious_.'

'Better turn yourself in then, you know the ministry has been looking for you.' Mycroft didn't bother opening his mouth this time; he merely folded his arms and gave Sherlock a sincere gaze. 'Oh, don't look at me like that. You know it doesn't work, so why bother trying?'

Mycroft sighed and relaxed his position. 'Sherlock, I read that article in Witch Weekly –'

'And if you believe a word of it then you are as much of an idiot as Anderson.'

'Well, I must admit that you are uncomfortably close to Potter and his friends. You know what… reputation… they have, don't you?'

'Have I ever let myself get into a life threatening situation?'

'Last summer. As I recall, you followed a serial killer to his hiding place and tried to tackle him alone.'

'I knew what I was doing!'

'Yes, as admirable as your ignorance is, a fourteen year old boy can only offer a limited amount of assistance, putting your own life at risk was not the right way to go about it.'

'I don't need your advice.' Sherlock snarled at his brother, he grabbed John's arm and pivoted around; taking long strides to escape Mycroft's presence as quickly as he could. 'I can look after myself, thank you.' He called over his shoulder.

'Can't you two ever have a normal conversation?' John groaned once they had reached the staircase and Sherlock had relinquished the grip of his hand from around John's forearm.

'I'd say that that was fairly normal.' Sherlock stormed down the stairs towards the Great Hall.

'No, normal conversations don't end with both parties stomping off like a pair of five year olds.' John struggled to keep up with his companion. 'Maybe you should apologize to Mycroft.'

Sherlock snorted. '_Apologize_? Apologize for what?'

'For being an arrogant git, as always.' John muttered in an agitated tone.

Sherlock stopped so abruptly that John nearly walked into him. 'I am not apologizing to Mycroft.'

'He offered you some friendly advice –'

'I can assure you that Mycroft is anything but friendly.'

'He's just looking out for you.'

'No, he's trying humiliate and bully me; I'm not going to let him do that. Now hurry up, or you'll miss lunch.' Sherlock continued to lead the way down to the Great Hall. They headed towards the Ravenclaw table, searching the Gryffindor table along the way; Harry, Ron and Hermione were not present. 'They've gone to practice spells.'

'Should we go and find them?' John asked, taking a seat beside Cho Chang and her friend; Marietta Edgecombe.

'No. We'll find them after dinner tonight.' Sherlock surveyed the girl sitting opposite him. 'Good afternoon, Luna.'

The girl looked up from the piece of parchment in front of her as Sherlock addressed her. Her grey, misty eyes locked onto Sherlock's blue eyes for a moment before moving to John's face. The girl wore a blue ribbon necklace with three Butterbeer corks attached to it, her dirty-blonde hair fell down beneath the table, radishes hung from her ears and her wand was tucked behind her right ear for safe keeping. Dreamily, she said, 'Hello Sherlock Holmes. You must be John Watson; Sherlock speaks very highly of you.' Her voice was soft, she almost sounded like a curious child.

'Divination?' Sherlock asked, nodding at the piece of parchment in front of the girl.

'Yes. We're studying –'

'Crystallomancy.'

The girl smiled and nodded.

'So, what are you writing down?' John attempted to read the piece of paper.

'My observations.' Luna said matter-of-factly, shrugging. 'I think it's best that I keep a record of what I see.' She packed away her parchment, quill and ink and then glanced down at her little, blue wristwatch. 'We have some time before lesson, would you like to feed the Thestrals with me?' She asked brightly.

'Thestrals?' John stared inquisitively at Luna. 'What's a Thestrals?'

'I'll show you!' Luna smiled brightly, beckoning Sherlock and John to follow her.

'Come on then.' Sherlock nudged John's shoulder, rose to his feet and followed the misty eyed blonde.

'What about lunch?' John frowned at his plate of cottage cheese.

'It's fine; we'll skip Divination and have a picnic in the forest.' Sherlock grinned mischievously. 'Trelawney won't even notice that we're missing!' John reluctantly neglected his lunch and followed the two Ravenclaws from the Great Hall.

* * *

'So... we're following a complete airhead into the forest and missing a lesson for a picnic?' John whispered in a cynical tone, watching Luna zigzag across the path ahead of them. 'This is mental! We'll be in trouble if we're caught.'

'Where's your Gryffindor spirit?' Sherlock chuckled lightly, 'Don't tell me that you're afraid of the forest.'

'I'm not afraid of the forest, I'm afraid of McGonagall's temper.'

'Deep down she's a soft, little kitty.'

'Is that supposed to be funny?'

A rustle of leaves pulled the two teenagers out of their discussion, John jumped slightly making Sherlock laugh loudly. Luna, who had pulled a tree branch aside to lead them off of the path, looked around at them with a puckered brow. 'It's through here.' She nodded to a small clearing, which was concealed behind the low hanging branch then proceeded to glide through the branches.

'This just screams "murderer" to me.' John gazed suspiciously into the clearing.

'What?' Sherlock gave John a half-amused, half-discombobulated look.

'Y'know, isolated area; out of sight, I doubt anyone would hear us out here and we're with a complete stranger who is apparently about to show us something.'

'Luna won't kill you.' Sherlock smirked, pushing John into the clearing. 'You've read too many books.'

Luna stood in the middle of the glade; her arm outstretched and in her palm was – 'Raw meat!' John exclaimed with a disgusted expression.

Luna nodded earnestly. 'It's what they like the most.' She suddenly gasped and bobbed on the balls of her feet a little. 'Look!' She pointed towards the trees with her other hand. John and Sherlock looked too.

'I don't see any – ARGH!' John made a hasty retreat as the bloody meat in Luna's hand suddenly vanished. 'Sh-Sherlock! Where'd it go?'

Sherlock approached his Gryffindor peer, retrieving a small hand written book from the pocket of his robes as he walked. He found the page he was looking for and gave the book to John. 'Thestrals can only be seen by people who have seen death. They eat meat; prefer it raw –'

'Are they going to attack us?' John asked faintly; skim reading through the small journal.

'Of course not; these Thestrals have been tamed. Probably the only trained herd in the whole of the United Kingdom.'

'They're harmless,' Luna articulated smoothly, stroking thin air, 'they're quite shy creatures, though.'

'And... you can see them?' The sandy haired boy cautiously approached the Ravenclaw girl again.

'My mother,' Luna answered the unasked question, 'she was quite an extraordinary witch, then one day one of her spell went drastically wrong.'

John stared at her sorrowfully and opened his mouth to console her, but she shook her head and focused her attention on the Thestral again.

The three students spent the remaining hour feeding the Thestrals and stroking what John could only assume was the Thestral's back. Luna walked back up towards the school with Sherlock and John, explaining about the Thestrals to John and occasionally drifting into speeches about other curious creatures like Nargles.

'See you later!' She smiled softly and waved while she ascended the Marble Staircase, watching the two teenage boys head towards the passage which led to the Hufflepuff Common Room and the school kitchens.

'Well she seems... interesting.' The young Gryffindor tickled the pear in the portrait of a fruit bowl.

'She's incredibly open-minded,' Sherlock smiled slightly, stepping into the brightly lit kitchen after John, 'personally, I'd love to lock her in a room with Hermione. They're both very intelligent, but Hermione's too narrow-minded; sometimes she can overlook the obvious. Luna often crowds her mind with too many impossible theories, even though the evidence is right in front of her.'

'Mr Holmes, sir!' A small elf wearing a peculiar hotchpotch of clothes bowed down to Sherlock then turned and bowed to John. 'Mr Watson, sir! What can Dobby be doing for you?'

'It appears that we have missed lunch,' Sherlock explained to the small elf, 'could you fix something for us?'

The elf bounced excitedly off to relay the message to his fellow house-elves.

'That's the house-elf who woke me and Harry up on the day of the second task.' John stared curiously after Dobby.

'You mean "Harry and me".'

John glared up at his companion. 'Whatever.'

'I sent Dobby to wake you two up that day, I had a hunch that you'd both oversleep.' Sherlock turned to face John. 'Picnic in the forest or stay here and chat with the elves?'

'Er...' John contemplated the options for a moment, 'Forest; we're not likely to get caught out of class there.' Sherlock nodded then strode away, leaving John feeling awkward next to the door.

An elf with white sprouts of hair producing from his ear and wearing a dazzling white tea towel with the Hogwarts crest embroidered upon it in yellow around his waist approached John and gave a low bow. 'Can Pecky get anything for you, sir?' His voice was low and gravelly.

John grimaced at the way the elves addressed him as "Sir." 'No, thank you, I'm just waiting for my friend.' He waved a hand towards Sherlock, who was talking to Dobby and another house-elf who had a wooden spoon clutched in her tiny hands. 'You don't have to call me "sir;" my name is John.' He beamed encouragingly at the old elf and extended his hand in acquaintance. Pecky gave John a curious look and cautiously shook his hand, his features rearranging into a toothy grin.

'Ready?' Sherlock returned to John's side. John glanced down at the basket in Sherlock's hand with a raised eyebrow.

'Couldn't we have put the food in our schoolbags?'

'They insisted that we took the basket.'

'Can't wait to hear the rumours.' John stated derisively, leading the way out of the kitchen door.

* * *

'Want a blanky, Potter?' Malfoy heckled in a juvenile manner, laughter from the Slytherins rung out over the grounds. 'Want to rest your ickle head?'

'What's he on about?' John looked over his shoulder at Malfoy and his gang as they traipsed back up to the school for lunch.

'I fell asleep in Divination,' Harry mumbled, 'don't you remember?'

'Lovely to see we weren't missed then,' Sherlock commented brightly, he then turned to address John, 'told you we wouldn't be caught.'

'All right, smartarse,' John poked Sherlock's back to make him keep walking, 'no need to show off.'

'I'm a show off, that's wha –'

'You missed a lesson!' Hermione exclaimed shrilly. 'We have tests coming up soon! You could've missed some vital information!'

'It was only Divination, Hermione,' Ron rolled his eyes dismissively, 'we all know she's a big old fraud. What else is there to learn?' Lavender and Pavarti shot Ron scandalised glares, discussing his statement in livid whispers.

'It's still important to attend all of your lessons!'

'Says the one who walked out of class in our third year,' John retorted.

'That was different! I felt the subject was dull!'

'No; you'd finally found a subject that you couldn't cope with.' Sherlock corrected.

'Anyway, you fell asleep in class,' John drew the conversation back to it's original topic, 'big deal.'

'I had a bad dream.' Harry replied tentatively.

'Bad dream?' Ron gave a snort of laughter. 'You fell off your chair, mate, and you were thrashing around on the floor. Can't forget about the screaming either.'

Harry sighed and told them as much as he could remember about the dream; how he'd flown through the upper storey window of an unrecognisable building covered in Ivy on the back of an eagle owl and witnessed the conversation between two figures; one was Peter Pettigrew and the other Voldemort.

'... then I went to Dumbledore's office and –'

'Interesting,' Sherlock interrupted Harry's explanation, stopping next to the fountain in the Clock Tower Courtyard, 'Have you had dreams like this before?'

Harry slowed to a stop along with John, Ron and Hermione to look back at Sherlock. 'Yes, during the summer holidays.'

'What happened when you went to Dumbledore's office?'

'I fell into the Pensieve and witnessed Dumbledore's memory of –'

'What's a Pensieve?' asked John.

'It's an object that allows the user to review their memories, these memories can also be viewed by a third party as though they were there at the time too,' Sherlock replied in a slightly irritable tone, 'continue Harry.'

'I witnessed Dumbledore's memories of some Death Eater's trials.' Harry concluded.

'Whose trials?'

'Er... Barty Crouch Jr... Igor Karkaroff and Ludo Bagman.'

'Ludo Bagman?' John stared disbelievingly at Harry. 'A Death Eater? Are you sure it was him?'

'Positive, he was let off though.' Harry reassured them. 'Fudge was in Dumbledore's office when I turned up; he reckons Madam Maxime is behind Mr Crouch's disappearance.'

'How could she? She's been here at Hogwarts the whole time!' John exclaimed loudly.

Harry gaped at John before remembering that he hadn't told Sherlock or John about his latest encounter with Mr Crouch. 'Krum wanted to talk to me alone after we were told what the third task was going to be, Mr Crouch stumbled out of the forest; he was completely out of his mind, but he'd come back to his senses every now and then, asking for Dumbledore. So, I left him with Krum and went to get Dumbledore –'

'You left Crouch with Krum!?' Sherlock yelled furiously, 'Idiot!' He took a deep breath, 'carry on.'

Harry continued irritably, 'When I returned with Dumbledore, Crouch was gone and Krum was unconscious.'

'Why didn't you tell us this earlier?' Sherlock demanded petulantly.

'I forgot,' Harry retorted, 'my mind's been on the third task since it happened.'

'I hope you know that you were metres away from our Death Eater that night.' Sherlock pouted and folded his arms.

'Do you think that Crouch is the Death Eater?' Posed Ron.

Sherlock rolled his eyes 'Of course not! He wouldn't have been able to make such a speedy retreat. The Death Eater must have been in the forest. As soon as Harry left; he stunned Krum and escaped with Crouch. We can only assume that the Death Eater has killed Crouch.'

'Why would the Death Eater wait until Harry left?' Hermione argued. 'Why not kill him while he had the chance?'

'If he kills Harry during the final task he could make it look like an accident on behalf of the tournament.' John, Harry, Ron and Hermione shared sceptical glances before Sherlock changed the subject and broke the uneasy silence. 'Let's find an empty classroom, I found a spell that might be useful, but it'll take some time to perfect it.'

* * *

Students and the Professors of Hogwarts chatted excitedly as the stands of the Quidditch Pitch creaked under the weight of the many spectators of the final task.

Sherlock, John, Harry, Ron and Hermione joined Ginny, Molly and Mary outside Hagrid's hut before making a slow progression to the Quidditch Pitch.

'Where do you think Moody's going?' Ginny drew the attention of her friends by pointing at the retreating figure of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

'Dunno,' Molly shrugged, 'Maybe he forgot something.' They watched the limping man stop at the castle doors for a while; talking to another figure. 'He'll be back.' Molly finished dismissively.

Mrs. Weasley and her son; Bill, joined the group, wishing Harry "Good Luck!" and then left him to find a place to sit in the stands.

'Sherlock?' John stopped before the entrance to the stands. 'Aren't you coming?'

'I'll be there in a few minutes,' the Ravenclaw assured his companion as he slowly made his way back up to the school, 'I just want a word with Moody before the task.'


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Confrontation

_xxx In dedication to Juliet Blue  
One of my many sisters/ my fiancée who mean the whole world to me xxx_

_**Disclaimer/Author's Note: **I am terribly sorry (this time I mean it) for any typos, my keyboard is dying... or just doesn't want to play ball and as my room has no heating or sense of insulation I am freezing (Nice 5 degrees outside...) British weather, absolutely amazing... I hate this Island, no wait, hate isn't strong enough to empathsise my detest... I **LOATHE** this Island. Why did mum and dad chose Canvey of all places!?  
Anyway, enough whinning. Thank you once again to Sam and LarkspurLilMoon for helping me with this chapter; where would I be without you two?_

I own nothing, everything belongs to two of the world's most amazing authors, Warner Bros. and that heavenly place we call "BBC".  
I apologise to any Anderson fans (does he even have fans?) my previous chapter was quite anti-Anderson... but I'm not apologising to Anderson!  
Hope you enjoy it :) ~"Quinn"  
**Confrontation**

The raven-haired teenager ascended the Marble Staircase two steps at a time in his haste to reach the retired Auror before the final task began. He finally reached Moody's office; subconsciously straightening his clothes before knocking smartly on the wooden door.  
'Enter!' The growl of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor sounded through the door, Sherlock saw the fleeting gleam of a crystal phial as Moody closed the drawer of his desk as he entered, placing the cap back on his hipflask and restoring it to its usual place on his belt. 'All right there, laddie? Can I help you with something?' Moody beckoned Sherlock into the room.  
'Actually, you can,' Sherlock stepped over the threshold and closed the door, taking in his surroundings as he spoke, 'it's about Harry.'  
'Aye?' Moody stared curiously at the boy before him.  
'Someone; a Death Eater, is either trying to kill him or kidnap him.'  
A grizzly smile broke over the old Auror's face. 'Come now, laddie. There's no safer place than Hogwarts.'  
'So it would seem; but I know that there's a Death Eater running around the castle as we speak.'  
'Oh really?'  
'Surely you haven't failed to notice the disappearance of Mr Crouch? Harry's name happens to have been selected to compete in the Triwizard Tournament; he must've been entered under a different school,' at that moment, a strange object caught Sherlock's eye, it was a mirror with dark shadows moving around inside it, he recognized it to be a Foe Glass. _What a curious thing to have in a school_, he thought. 'This Death Eater - I suspect that he'll be taking the appearance of a trusted professor, one that Dumbledore is close with and can trust. I know he's using Polyjuice Potion: I noticed that the ingredients were missing from Snape's private stores, which means he'll need to drink on the hour, every hour; otherwise the potion will wear off. He'll be drinking it from something like a hipflask; I guess his disguise will help him make up some excuse to –' Sherlock suddenly looked to the desk draw where he'd seen the phials to the hipflask on Moody's belt, his eyes widened and he gasped a little. His eyes met the professor's as he finally understood everything.  
'Smart one, you are,' Moody grinned unpleasantly at the Ravenclaw, 'too smart, but the Dark Lord will reward you for your intellect if you chose to join him.'  
'Never!' Sherlock spat, his eyes narrowing to glaring at the so-called Moody, slowly reaching for his wand. 'Not in a million years!' He yanked the wand out his jacket pocket and aimed at the intruder. 'Where's the real Moody?' He demanded.  
'Do you really think that you're in the position to ask questions?' "Moody" asked, and then grinned maliciously, 'But you'll find out soon enough.'  
Sherlock realised that the man was right; attempting to escape was pointless, this man wouldn't be frightened to pursue him and finish him off and he wouldn't be able to confront him alone. The Foe Glass caught his eye once more; a figure became clearer and clearer, Sherlock was relieved that the blurry figure resembled Greg Lestrade.  
He heard "Moody" mutter a spell, then, 'Crucio!' During his moment of relief, the Death Eater reacted. The feeling of hundreds of red hot swords piercing through his skin left Sherlock shrieking and writhing on the floor in pain. When the spell was lifted, he noticed that he no longer had his wand. He used the open trunk next to him to get to his feet and face Moody once more. With another mischievous smile, the man raised Sherlock's own wand, 'Flipendo!'  
Sherlock was thrown off of his feet into the open trunk behind him, hitting his head painfully on the lid of the trunk so that stars popping behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes, just in time to watch the lid crash down and hear the lock click. He had landed on something squishy and... moving? Rolling his head to the left, he saw the dark outline of the real Mad-Eye Moody; unconscious and barely breathing, but still alive. He could hear the murmur of voices in the room above; Greg had arrived seconds too late.  
'Lestrade!' Sherlock tried to call out, but his voice was quiet and groggy. Still feeling dazed, Sherlock rose to his feet and attempted to pound the walls of the trunk with his fist, but the voices died as he heard a door slam. He was stuck, useless, helpless, frustrated, and now both he and Harry were in grave danger, and would probably both end up dead. On top of that, his body still ached from the curse, and his head throbbed from hitting it on the trunk.

* * *

'Where's Sherlock?' Mary whispered as John took his seat between Bill Weasley and Mary.  
'He said that he'll be here in a minute,' John told her, 'he just wants to talk to Moody before the task begins.' Mary nodded to show that she understood then focused her attention on Ludo Bagman who had just finished talking to the champions. Hagrid, Greg Lestrade, Sally Donavon, Anderson, Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Moody entered the stadium, each one wearing a hat with a luminous red star on top with the exception of Hagrid, who wore the star on the back of his moleskin overcoat. John could hear Molly attempting to stifle her giggling at the hats as he stared curiously down at Moody; _if Moody was here, then where was Sherlock?  
_Bagman pointed his wand at his own throat and muttered something, then his booming voice addressed the audience, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin –' Applause met Ludo Bagman's words and John seized the opportunity to leave the stands. He headed down to where the wizards with red stars stood and approached Moody.  
'Er... Professor?' John yelled over the crowd, tapping Moody's shoulder.  
'What's wrong, Laddie?' Moody shouted back.  
'Have you seen Sherlock anywhere?'  
'Who?'  
'Sherlock Holmes; he said he wanted to speak to you.'  
Moody grimaced convincingly at John and shook his head. 'Can't say I have.'  
'Okay, thanks anyway.' John said, even as his heart sunk. He retreated back into the stands, receiving a cautious glance from Moody as he went.  
'– Mr Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place – Miss Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy! So... on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three – Two – One –' Ludo gave the whistle a short blast and smiled as he watched the two Hogwarts competitors enter the maze.  
John had tackled his way back to his seat beside Mrs Weasley and Mary, then frowned at the empty space beside Hermione.

* * *

Sherlock sat opposite the real Mad-Eye Moody with his knees drawn up to his chest and pondered about what would become of him once the Death Eater returned and had finished off Harry. With himself out of the picture, he couldn't see how anything else could happen. He felt the body opposite him stir slightly; the last thing he needed was a paranoid ex-Auror to wake up locked in a trunk with someone he didn't know. Sherlock cursed his luck and decided to plan how he would explain everything to Mad-Eye Moody when he woke up.

* * *

It had been an hour since Harry and Cedric had entered the maze, Viktor and Fleur had entered as well; but after seeing red sparks Greg Lestrade had pulled Fleur out of the maze and taken her over to see Madam Pomfrey. Hermione was talking to Mrs Weasley; they had returned to their usual friendliness after Harry explained that Rita Skeeter had lied about the Love Potions in the Witch Weekly article. Bill and Ron joked about the Tournament; both seeming to think that Cedric stood no chance against Harry and Krum; while Ginny, Mary and Molly had turned in their seats to listen to the Weasley Twins attempt to impersonate their brother, Percy Weasley. John glanced nervously around the stadium in search of his friend. As his eyes swept around the crowd he saw a face that he recognised: James Moriarty. James merely stared at John before shrugging and turning his attention to the maze, John too shrugged and looked away, but he had a bad feeling. More red sparks shot up through the maze and Viktor Krum was escorted out by Professor Flitwick.

After another hour and fifteen minutes, John was worried and had decided that he should go looking for Sherlock. He pardoned himself from the group and rose to his feet, wondering why he hadn't done so earlier. The moment he stood up, two figures appeared outside the maze; the one who wore black and yellow was laying on the floor, the smaller of the two, who wore red and black, was holding the other's wrist in one hand and the Triwizard Cup in the other. He instantly let go of the cup and huddled over the older of the two. The crowd rose to their feet cheering at the two champions.  
John stood frozen to the spot, staring down at the two figures.  
'Something's wrong!' John turned to look at Mary.  
'What?' She gave him a puzzled stare, but he didn't respond. He forced his way through the crowd, down to where Harry and Cedric lay on the ground. Harry shook violently and Cedric remained still; seeing his friend in distress, John ran towards Harry, but someone restrained him by catching him around the waist.  
'Best you stay outta the way, let Dumbledore deal with it,' the growl of Professor Moody sounded in John's ears, 'Stay here, that's a good lad.' John did as he was told and numbly watched the scene in front of him.  
A crowd had formed around the two champions. Words were repeated around John, each whisper saying the same thing; _"Cedric Diggory's dead!"_ Ron, Hermione, Bill and Mrs Weasley swiftly joined John; tears streaked down Hermione's cheek, Mrs Weasley gasped while Ron and Bill turned very pale.  
They could hear the muttered voices of those surrounding Harry and Cedric.

'I'll take Harry, Dumbledore, I'll take him –' Moody's voice growled quietly.

'No, I would prefer –'

Dumbledore was cut off by Cornelius Fudge. 'Dumbledore, Amos Diggory's running... he's coming over... don't you think you should tell him – before he sees –?'  
'Harry, stay here –'

Mrs Weasley rushed over to Professor McGonagall to see if she could assist in anyway, Bill ran off with her.

'Cedric –' Hermione whispered turning to Ron and John with tears still glistening in her eyes.

'Wait,' Ron looked around the crowds with a worried expression, 'Where's Sherlock?'  
'He said that he was going to speak to Moody before the task, but he never showed up.' John said, fear creeping up his spine. He awkwardly placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders in an attempt to soothe her as she huddled into him. He gazed over Ron's shoulder, noticing something. 'Where's Harry gone?'

'What?' Hermione broke away from John, staring into the crowd. 'He was right there!'  
'We better tell Dumbledore.' Ron led the way through the cluster, holding Hermione's hand while Hermione held John's with her free hand so they wouldn't lose each other in the mass of people.

'Professor Dumbledore!'Hermione called out as they saw his head producing slightly over the crowd. 'Professor Dumbledore!' He finally turned to her calling.

'Miss Granger, I'm very busy at the –'

'Harry's gone.' John cut over Dumbledore. Dumbledore's eyes widened as they turned to the place where Harry was before. John paused, then said, 'And Sherlock's missing.'

'Did you see where they went?'

Hermione gazed around too. 'No, but Professor Moody is gone too.'

* * *

A clunking sound told Sherlock that his captor had returned, but the irregular footfalls told him that the Death Eater had brought someone else with him. Using this opportunity, Sherlock began to pound the walls and yell at the top of his voice, hoping that the other person could help him.

His heart fell into the pit of his stomach as he realised that the return of the Death Eater meant that the task was now finished; there was a high probability that Harry was already dead.

He listened carefully as the voice that he recognised to be Moody's gave a snort of laughter. He watched the lid of the trunk, as though this would help his situation. "Moody's" voice began to rise louder so Sherlock could hear what he was saying. 'Mad, am I? We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned –' Sherlock's eyes widened; _how could it be possible?_ '–with me at his side! He's back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him – and now – I conquer you!'

'**HARRY!**' Sherlock yelled uselessly. He heard a loud "thump" hit the floor, which was followed by silence, an anaesthetized feeling spread through his body and he barely drew breath. _Could Harry be dead?_

A moment later he heard more murmurs of voice, unsure whether they were friend or foe Sherlock tried to listen to them. The clicking of locks sounded above him, he's heart beat faster with every click, after the seventh click the crack between the lid and the trunk widened. Sherlock pressed himself back against the wall of the trunk, bracing himself for the killing curse. This was the end. Harry was dead, and Sherlock was sure he was soon to join him.

His eyes met Dumbledore's and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw Harry standing just behind the wizened wizard extended his hand to Sherlock, helping him climb out of the trunk.

'Professor Moody,' Sherlock began instantly, 'He's not the real –'  
'I know,' Dumbledore cut across him and clambered into the trunk himself, checking the condition of the real Mad-Eye Moody, 'Stunned – controlled by the Imperius curse – very weak.'

'He needed to keep him alive,' Sherlock thought aloud standing beside Harry, 'so he could use his hair for Polyjuice Potion.'

'Yes,' Dumbledore spoke softly, 'throw down the impostor's cloak, Alastor is freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger.' Sherlock crossed the room and grabbed the Death Eater's cloak; he then passed it down into the trunk for Dumbledore to grab. Harry and Sherlock shuffled backwards slightly as the Headmaster climbed out of the trunk again. 'You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey too.' Dumbledore finished staring intently at Sherlock, who didn't argue.

Dumbledore then took the hipflask from the Death Eater's belt, took the cap off and poured the contents onto the office floor; the thick mud-like substance glistened on the floor.  
'Polyjuice Potion,' Dumbledore confirmed, nodding at Sherlock, 'you see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance.' Sherlock nodded back at him.

Harry stared at the old wizard with a bemused expression. 'Moody only drinks from his hipflask,' said Sherlock, addressing the Gryffindor, 'he's well known for it. It gave the impostor an excuse to drink regularly from the hipflask. No one else would know that it really contained Polyjuice Potion.'

Dumbledore dismissed further conversation; he merely sat on the chair behind the desk and stared at the Death Eater's unconscious form.

'Your wrist –' the bloody mess of Harry's sleeve had caught Sherlock's eye.

'It doesn't hurt anymore.' Harry assured him.

'May I?' Sherlock held out his hand and Harry raised his arm, allowing the Ravenclaw to take a closer look. 'It's not too deep, keep it elevated; above the heart, that should slow the bleeding. You want to apply pressure to it too.'

The charlatan's appearance began to change as they waited; scars disappeared, his nose shrunk, his hair became shorter and straw-like in colour and his leg grew back; pushing the wooden one out of the trouser leg. Mad-Eye's renowned magical eyeball popped out of its socket as it was replaced with a normal eye. The man before Sherlock was one who he did not recognise, he was much younger than Mad-Eye, yet older than Sherlock; evident from the wrinkles forming around his eyes, his pale skin was dotted with freckles too.

Footsteps announced the arrival of Snape, he had brought a house-elf with him, McGonagall too stood in the doorway.

'Crouch!' Exclaimed Snape, taking in the sight before him. 'Barty Crouch!'

'Good heavens!' McGonagall gasped. Sherlock too looked down at the pitiful man, he then realised that they meant Barty Crouch Junior. Confusion swept over him, wasn't Crouch supposed to be dead? Sirius had said that he watched the Dementors bury him years ago! He gazed at Harry to see if he had, miraculously, understood this discombobulating riddle; Harry's face remained passive as he stared vacantly at the man. Sherlock, frustrated that he hadn't understood this mystery, waited for an explanation.

'Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?' The squawking house-elf jerked Harry back to his surroundings as she pushed past him to reach the slumping form on the floor. 'You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed master's son!' Snape looked down his hooked nose at the house-elf as he passed her to give Dumbledore a small bottle of clear liquid; Veritaserum, of which was forced down the throat of Barty Crouch by Dumbledore.

Two wands were taken from the Death Eater and given to McGonagall; she gave Sherlock his own back and placed the other in the pocket of her robes as Greg Lestrade ran down the corridor and joined her in the doorway.

'What's going on?' Greg's eyes flitted from the open trunk, to Barty Crouch, to Harry and Sherlock, to the sobbing house-elf and finally rested on Dumbledore.  
'Let's find out, shall we?' Dumbledore pointed his own wand at the Death Eater, 'Enervate,' he waited until the man's eyes fluttered open before addressing him, 'Can you hear me?'  
'Yes.'

'I would like you to tell us how you come to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?'

Barty took a deep breath then started speaking in a very fast monotone voice, 'My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favour to her. He loved her as he never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draught of Polyjuice Potion, containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draught of Polyjuice Potion, containing one of my hairs. We took each other's appearance.'

'Say no more, Master Barty!' The house-elf shook her head and clamped her hands over her huge ears. 'Say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!'

'The Dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy person, one dying person entering Azkaban –'

'–And one healthy person, one dying person leaving.' Sherlock finished, he was satisfied. He now understood this new mystery. The man on the floor nodded in confirmation and he continued with his happily new-found knowledge. 'Your father disguised you as your mother so that any other prisoners watching wouldn't recognise you.' Sherlock guessed, thinking back to what Sirius had said; _"'__Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell__.'"_

The man nodded again and continued to explain in his emotionless voice, 'my mother died a short while afterwards in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name, and baring my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me.'  
Harry and Sherlock shared a knowing stare.

'And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?' Dumbledore continued his interrogation while every other occupant of the room listened intently.

'Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health –' the elf trembled under the stare of six pairs of eyes. '– Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master... of returning to his service.'

'How did your father subdue you?'

'The Imperius curse, I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and carer. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behaviour.'  
The house-elf continued to protest, screaming at her master to stop talking but her attempts were futile.

'Did anyone discover that you were still alive? Did anyone know except your father, and the house-elf?'

'Yes, a witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to my house, with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently.'

'So they needed her to disappear,' Sherlock articulated, feeling all eyes turn on him, 'she was in no condition to continue working at the Ministry and if she was to die the Aurors would be able to trace it back to Mr Crouch, so she went to visit her second cousin in Albania. She disappeared overall after that, no one would be able to trace that back to Mr Crouch, I highly doubt that he's the reason for her disappearance anyway.'

Dumbledore stared at Sherlock for a moment, and then spoke sharply to Barty. 'Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup.'

'Winky talked my father into it,' Crouch clarified, gazing blankly into Dumbledore's face, 'she spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell the fresh air for once. She said my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end. It was carefully planned. My father led myself and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know. But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed out of his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw a wand sticking out of a boy's pocket in front of me –'

'– And so you stole the wand, conjured the dark mark, got stunned by Ministry officials along with the house-elf but the house-elf was found instead of you.' Sherlock concluded, getting bored of listening to man. 'Once you got home, Mr Crouch dismissed the house-elf for not keeping you under control.'

'My master came for me.' Barty continued, the Ravenclaw student let out a frustrated groan, he had hoped that the Death Eater would shut up now. He folded his arms and continued to listen with a tetchy expression. 'He arrived at our house late one night, in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed on her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his most faithful servant – perhaps most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house at midnight –'  
'I thought we already established that,' Sherlock moaned, Harry trod on his foot to make him shut up.

A horrific smile spread across Barty's face to accompany the malicious gleam in his eyes. '– My father answered the door. It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years.'

'And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?' Dumbledore enquired.

'It's simple, isn't it?' Sherlock replied, ignoring the warning glances he was receiving from Harry, Greg and McGonagall. Snape gave him a livid stare, tired of his know-it-all manner, more _insufferable_ than Hermione Granger. 'They needed someone inside the castle; as Moody was already assigned a position here as teacher and he is a close friend of yours, he would make the perfect disguise. The Polyjuice Potion was prepared in advance, so all Barty had to do was go to Moody's house, subdue the real Moody and hide him in that trunk,' Sherlock pointed at the open trunk, 'Moody must've put up an impressive fight, there was a complaint to the Muggle police about noise. So after taking some hair, Barty drunk the Polyjuice Potion to become a double of Moody so he could deal with any issues involving the Muggle police and the Ministry of Magic. Barty then, as Moody, came to Hogwarts as a professor, entered Harry into the Triwizard Tournament as the only competitor under a fourth school, then proceeded to guide Harry through the Tournament so the Dark Lord could return to power. He stole the ingredients for further batches of Polyjuice Potion from Snape's private stores. Leaving Wormtail –' Sherlock used Peter's nickname, unsure if Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape knew that the man was actually alive, '–to care for Voldemort and keep an eye on Mr Crouch in his absence.'

'But my father escaped,' Barty continued, 'After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban. My master sent me word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything.'

'Map? What map is this?' Dumbledore asked. Sherlock turned to Harry, he too had never heard about the map.

'Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it –' Sherlock raised his eyebrow at his Gryffindor peer; who opened his mouth to respond but Barty continued, '–Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father as we have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape –'

'The night your father appeared on the map,' Sherlock began, 'Krum was stunned, that was you, wasn't it?'

'Yes. I was concealed beneath my Invisibility Cloak.'

'What did you do to you father?'

'I killed him,' Barty glared at Sherlock and the twisted grin returned to his face, his voice shook with suppressed laughter, 'I carried the body into the forest and hid it beneath the Invisibility Cloak then watched as Potter and Dumbledore returned to the scene on the map. I doubled round behind them and told Dumbledore that I had spoken to Snape. Dumbledore told me to find my father so I went back to my father's body and watched the map. When everyone was gone, I transfigured my father's body into a bone... I buried it in the freshly dug earth outside Hagrid's Cabin wearing the Invisibility Cloak.'

Sherlock felt Harry stagger slightly beside him. A glance at Harry's wrist told him that the bleeding was still quite heavy; he positioned himself closer to Harry ready to assist the boy if the need arose. Everyone else in the room was still; McGonagall gaped at the figure on the floor, Snape's expression resembled that of someone who had dirt shoved under their nose, Dumbledore had turned pale and Greg Lestrade simply stared at Barty. The only noise in the room was the house-elf's protests and sobbing.

Greg cleared his throat, 'What role did you play in tonight's events? '

'I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner, turned it into a Portkey, that Holmes boy almost destroyed everything so I had to deal with him before going to the Quidditch Pitch,' Crouch spoke in a proud voice and his features changed to triumph, 'my master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards.'  
Dumbledore moved away from Barty; not wishing to be near the man a second longer. 'Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?'

'Of course,' she nodded faintly, looking as though she wished to do nothing of the sort; she withdrew her wand nevertheless and aimed it at the scoundrel's chest.

'Severus, will you go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge and bring him to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the Hospital Wing in half an hour's time if he needs me.' With a curt nod, Snape passed Greg; who was still stood in the doorway and strode off down the corridor. 'Greg, could you take Sherlock to the Hospital Wing before he collapses. Tell Madam Pomfrey to come down to this office, Alastor Moody will also need to be seen to.'

'I feel fine, Professor.' Sherlock had only just realised that he had been swaying this whole time, but he stood his ground firmly despite the fact his body moaned and his head pounded. 'I want to stay with Harry.'

Dumbledore gave the youth a stern look over his half moon spectacles which Sherlock matched with his dominant glare. 'I can assure you that Harry will not leave my side, he's safe now.'

'Come on, Sherlock.' Greg tugged Sherlock's sleeve lightly. In no position to argue, Sherlock stumbled out of the office, watching Harry intently over his shoulder. 'John will be pleased to see you, he was growing worried.' Sherlock remained silent. 'You look awful, what happened?'  
'I went to tell Moody about the Death Eater, I wanted to warn him. I figured out that he was the Death Eater and confronted him, but he attacked me using the Cruciatus Curse –'  
'Merlin's beard! Sherlock! Why didn't you say something sooner?' Greg stopped and grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders; making the boy jump violently. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, it wasn't important.'

Greg continued to peer into Sherlock's face with an anxious expression. 'What happened next?'

'When the curse was lifted he had taken my wand and opened the trunk, he used a knock-back jinx as I stood up and I was thrown backwards into the trunk with the real Mad- Eye Moody. He locked the trunk as you entered the room then you both left.'

Greg looked sympathetically at the dark haired wizard, 'I'm sorry, Sherlock. Had I have known –'

'There was no way you could've known I was in that trunk,' Greg led the way to the Hospital Wing again; keeping a close eye on the youngster, 'Anyway, I should've known better than to go alone.'

* * *

Minutes later Sherlock found himself sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing, glaring up at the familiar white ceiling and refusing treatment until he had seen Harry. Madam Pomfrey gave up on try to see to Sherlock, asked Greg to look after him and left to retrieve Moody.  
'I promise that Harry's fine,' Greg tried to soothe the agitated Ravenclaw, 'look, when Madam Pomfrey comes back I'll go and find John and Mycroft then bring them up to see you.'  
'No Mycroft, just John.'  
'He'll be worried about you.'  
'No Mycroft, just John.'  
'Sherlock –'  
'No Mycroft, just John.'  
Greg sighed, 'Fine, I won't get Mycroft, but I am writing to your mother.'  
'Mycroft will probably do it anyway.'  
'Is there anyone you do want to talk to?'  
'John... and Mrs Hudson, this is her address,' Sherlock found a piece of parchment that Madam Pomfrey used to make patient notes, 'send for her, will you.'  
'If it's what you want, Sherlock.'

True to his word, Greg left the Hospital Wing as soon as Madam Pomfrey returned with the unconscious Mad-Eye Moody. She placed Moody on the bed beside Sherlock's, made some notes on the piece of parchment beside Moody's bed and then drew the curtain around.  
'All right, Mr Holmes, how are you feeling?' The matron approached his bed with a small phial of potion.  
'I feel fine, thank you.' Sherlock replied subconsciously.  
'This potion is Essence of Euphoria, it will help you relax. Take it when you're ready to.'  
'Thank you.'

The doors of the Hospital Wing creaked open and John Watson peered inside. 'Sherlock?' Seeing his friend smile weakly at him, John ran down the aisle between the beds until he reached Sherlock's; ignoring the disapproving glower from Madam Pomfrey. 'Sherlock, I was so worried, are you –'  
'I'm fine, honestly.'  
'What happened?'


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Has Yet To Be Named

_**Author's Note/ Disclaimer: [**Something about updating sooner... and the fact that this hasn't been checked through yet, so this chapter will be changed at some point in my existance... something about "I'm not writing this for anyone, it's purely for my own benefit... haha!" or something along those lines, basically I write this fanfic for myself but share it on the internet anyway, if you don't enjoy it then there's not much I can do about it... well I can, but I'm too lazy *shrugs* what the fuck am I even on about? I quit! I'm doing this way too soon after watch AVPSY! *Slams door on the way out*]_

_I own neither Sherlock or Harry Potter. They are both owned by rich and influential peoples... er... support the official release by sending your love to the Author; Gilderoy Lockhart (*whispers* I hear he's a big fraud, like, even worse than Trelawney) and... buy merchandise... dress up as your favourite characters and go to school like that... take over the world... all the normal stuff fans do, you know._

_As this hasn't been checked by my BETAs yet you are likely to experience a million and one mistakes, possible song lyrics, quotes that don't belong (such as: "RASENGAN!") from shows I've been watching or random pieces of coursework that I've totally been doing -_- _  
_And for the previous comment; *monotone voice* I am not a good rolemodel, if you are going to chose a rolemodel you should choose Dean Winchester, Spiderman or Bilbo Baggins... or just choose some real sassy asshole that everyone can't help to love - like Sherlock. Of course that will cause you to gain an enemy, be called gay (I can't really see the issue behind that one...), be called a freak, be falsely accused of your enemy's crimes, be forced to jump from a- Don't choose Sherlock._

_Now back to not existing for many months, you never know, the fourth series of Sherlock might air by the time I update. JUST KIDDING! I won't be alive in 2109!_

_Allow me to spend the next few minutes telling you about my dream: I was in some sort of building being chased by a Lady who looked like Oswin from Doctor Who and she was trying to kill me, as you do, so I took an elevator to the top floor - which ended out being the Apple Store - and found this strange Lady so I said "Hey, I've come to claim my council tax letter so the council will know that I'm still in college." so she smiled at me and turned away saying "Come this way, I'll show you around." So we were walking through the top floor of this building - the top floor was still the Apple Store, what the hell!? - and she pointed to a corner where 4 men were playingping-pong and said, "They're our accountants." but I still have no idea as to why 1.) She told me this 2.) Why the accountants of the Apple Store were playing ping-pong and 3.) Why the hell I went to the Apple Store to collect a letter for my council tax!_  
_Anyway, she gave me a tour of the Apple Store and pointed to an elevator next to the one I got out of and said "No one's allowed to use that elevator... so I used it. One minutes this elevator was a room with red walls, a designer sofa flanked by two plotted plants with a TV in front of it and when it started to move it turned into a moving eggchair thingy... I really don't know. But I was going to the swimming pool, apparently, until I tuck-rolled out of the elevator and found Oswin-Lady... I'll stop telling you about my dream now._

_Enjoy... or not, your choice._

**Chapter 16 - I Don't Even Know**

** Anymore...**  
Sherlock opened his mouth to tell his companion; John Watson, but he was cut off by the crashing of the Hospital Wing doors. Mrs Weasley, Bill, Ron and Hermione marched into the Hospital Wing demanding to see Harry.  
'He's not here at the moment, now please, quieten down. I have two other patients to tend to.' Madam Pomfrey said shrilly.  
'But, what about Harry?' Hermione asked in an imploring tone.  
'He's with Dumbledore,' Sherlock called out.  
'Sherlock!' Hermione joined John at Sherlock's bedside. 'Where have you been?'  
'Locked in a trunk.'  
'Locked in a –' Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment, 'are you all right?'  
'I'm fine,' Sherlock waved her away.

While they waited for Dumbledore and Harry to arrive, Sherlock retold his tale to the small group and tried to answer all of the enquiries they posed.  
'So, Crouch's son didn't die in Azkaban?' Ron sat on the end of Sherlock's bed, frowning at him as though he had thought the boy had gone insane.  
'No, that was his mother. They used Polyjuice Potion to smuggle Crouch's son out,' Sherlock replied with an air of someone who was simply discussing tomorrow's weather, 'Crouch's wife was cautious enough to drink the Polyjuice Potion on a regular basis. Could I have a cup of tea?' He added to the matron, she pursed her lips but left to retrieve the tea.

Madam Pomfrey returned with Sherlock's cup of tea and handed it to him as he slumped back on his pillows.  
'Why?' Bill arched one of his ginger eyebrows at the young Ravenclaw. 'Dementors are blind, they wouldn't know the difference.'  
'So the other prisoners wouldn't notice,' Hermione pipped up, 'they could've watched Crouch leaving with his wife, if they had known it was really Crouch's son who was leaving then they would've alerted the Dementors.' Sherlock nodded at Hermione while he took a sip of his tea.  
'What about Crouch? What happened to him?' John stared up at his companion, sitting on one of the chairs next to the bed.  
'Dead,' Sherlock shrugged, 'he was then transfigured into a bone and buried outside Hagrid's Hut.' The small group grimaced and shifted uncomfortably at the thought.  
The Hospital Wing doors opened once more as Dumbledore, Harry, Greg Lestrade and a big, bear-like dog marched in; Harry looked worse than he had in Moody's office. Sherlock instantly placed his cup of tea on the bedside table and sprang to his feet.  
'Harry,' paying no attention to the protests of Madam Pomfrey, the raven haired Ravenclaw tore across the room to where the new arrivals stood with the rest of the group following behind him.  
'Mr Holmes, I insist that you return to your bed at once!' Madam Pomfrey grabbed Sherlock's wrist and proceeded to drag him back to his own bed.  
'Unhand me!' Sherlock wrenched his hand out of her vice-like grip.  
'Come now, you have been through a dreadful ordeal tonight –'  
'I refuse treatment.' He folded his arms to establish that his decision was final. Dumbledore placed a hand on Madam Pomfrey's shoulder and nodded; telling her that Sherlock could do as he wished for now, with a sigh she dropped her stern demeanour then pulled the curtains around Harry's bed to give him some privacy.  
'Please listen to me for a moment.' Dumbledore looked around at the group with a frown upon his face. 'Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is to sleep, and piece, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.' Dumbledore saw Mrs Weasley and Madam Pomfrey eyeing the hound which stood between John and Ron. 'This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while. I assure you, he is extremely well trained. I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry.' Dumbledore added, addressing the curtains to his right. 'I would like you to remain here tomorrow, until I have spoken to the school. Sherlock, I have sent an owl to Mrs Hudson, she will be here to see you in the morning, and you are welcome to leave the Hospital Wing when she arrives.' Sherlock nodded and watched Dumbledore leave with Greg behind him; their words fading as the doors closed again: _'I've sent Donavon and Anderson to stand guard with Minerva. We need to talk about –'  
_Sherlock, John, Ron, Hermione, Mrs Weasley, Bill and the dog who Sherlock recognised to be Sirius filed around the screen; each one, with the exception of Sirius and Sherlock, casting Harry a vigilant stare.  
'I'm all right,' Harry mutter quietly, 'just tired.'  
'How's your wrist?' Sherlock leaned on the bedside table.  
'Its fine now.'  
'You'll need to drink all of this, Harry,' Madam Pomfrey moved around the screen and handed him a goblet filled with purple liquid; 'it's a dreamless sleep potion.' The matron then proceeded to remove the screen from around Harry's bed while his visitors watched as he drank a few mouthfuls of the potion then slowly descend into his mattress and closed his eyes. Mrs Weasley had taken the Goblet out of Harry's hands and removed his glasses while Madam Pomfrey used Essence of Dittany to treat Harry's wounds.

Sherlock stayed with the others around Harry's bed for half of an hour or so before returning to his own with John, Hermione and Bill at his side, while the matron moved around the ward monitoring Moody and Harry.  
'Sorry, I didn't get your name earlier.' Whispered Bill, pulling the closest chair up to Sherlock's bed as John took the one he had occupied earlier.  
'Sherlock Holmes, this is my companion John Watson.' John smiled shyly as Sherlock introduced him.  
'Bill Weasley, Ron's eldest brother.' The redhead smiled pleasantly at the two boys.  
'I'm curious, Hermione,' Sherlock collected his cup of tea from the bedside table, settled into his pillows and turned to stared at the brunette witch, 'did you find out about where Rita Skeeter got her information from?'  
'Yes,' Hermione's expression became smug, she simply said, 'bugging!'  
'Bugging?' questioned John. Hermione nodded earnestly, with a small wicked grin. 'But... electrical equipment doesn't work around Hogwarts.'  
Hermione lent closer to the boys and lowered her voice, 'isn't it funny how there is always a beetle at the scene and then after a few days an article about the event appears?'  
'She's an animagus.' Sherlock said, impressed.  
Bill opened his mouth to question what the youths were talking about but his unspoken question was instantly cut off by the sound of shouting – issuing from the corridor beyond the wooden doors. The four of them whipped their heads around to face the source of commotion; listening intently to try and catch what was being said.  
'They'll wake him up if they don't shut up!' Mrs Weasley said in an undertone.  
'What are they yelling about?' Bill rose to his feet and walked half-way to the Hospital Wing's doors, 'nothing else can have happened, can it?'  
Everyone remain silent for a moment, trying to identify who the voices belonged to.  
'That's Fudge's voice,' Mrs Weasley finally murmured, 'and that's –'  
'Professor McGonagall?' John finished. 'What are they arguing about?'  
The voices grew louder and harsher, 'regrettable, but all the same, Minerva –'  
'You should have never brought it inside the castle! When Dumbledore finds out –'  
The doors crashed open again a short while later, out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Harry sit up and grab something from the bedside table. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape and Cornelius Fudge marched in; Fudge and McGonagall continued their argument while Snape slowed to a stop at the foot of Sherlock's bed.  
'Where's Dumbledore?' Fudge's eyes bulged madly as his gaze swept around the ward.  
'He's not here,' Sherlock notified the Minister for Magic through gritted teeth, rising to his feet once more 'and you should know better than to come barging into a hospital in the dead of night, it's very inconsiderate to those who reside here, you will do well to respect that in future!

'Sherlock!' John whispered, tugging his reluctant friend's arm. 'You can't yell at him, he's the Minister for Ma –'

'I wouldn't care if he was the King of England! You don't just – humph!'

John stood on the tip of his toes, placed his hands over Sherlock's mouth and tried to subdue the struggling Ravenclaw, 'I'm sorry sir, he's been through a bit of an ordeal.'

Breaking free from John's grip, Sherlock strode towards the Minister until they were face to face, 'I'll give him an ordeal if he doesn't leave!'

Cornelius Fudge opened his mouth to give a retort.

'What has happened?' Dumbledore had entered the Hospital Wing with fire in his eyes. The wizened wizard turned his terrifyingly sharp stare on Professor McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge, his tone was dangerously livid and gave an odd ringing sensation in everyone's ears. John – who had chased after his Ravenclaw peer with the intention to restrain the boy once again – allowed his steps to falter into a halt; he'd never seen Dumbledore angry before. 'Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I am surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch –'

McGonagall, still red from rage, burst into speech, pointing accusingly at Fudge. 'There is no reason to stand guard, Dumbledore. The Minister had seen to that –'

Snape quickly cut across McGonagall before she could continue ranting about the Minister again and get herself into serious trouble, 'when we told Mr Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a Dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch –'

'I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!' Everyone but Snape and Dumbledore jumped as McGonagall screeched again. 'I told him you would never allow Dementors to set foot in the castle, but –'

'My dear woman!' conflicted Fudge. 'As Minister for Magic, it is my decision whether I to bring protection –'

'And as Minister for Magic you should think about what is best for your people, not yourself!' Sherlock interjected. 'You're supposed to evaluate the situation and make a decision based upon what you see! How could a wandless wizard possibly be a threat when he is trapped in a room with three armed wizards?'

Fudge stared incredulously at Sherlock, 'I beg your pardon!'

'You heard me!'

'It is not the business of a student to get involved –'

'Then do your job properly.'

'That'll do now, Sherlock.' Dumbledore had turned his furious glare onto the boy in question. He then addressed McGonagall once more. 'Please continue.'

'The moment that –' She forced her voice to be calm, but it still shook with anger. 'That thing entered the room, it swooped down on Crouch and – and –'

'He's dead?' John whispered from behind Sherlock in the shocked silence; Bill Weasley leant towards John and whispered in his ear, no doubt to explain the affects of a Dementor's Kiss. Dumbledore glowered at Fudge.

'By all accounts, he is no loss! It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!' snarled Fudge.

'He can't be given a fair trial now!' Hermione cried. 'He can't give testimony.'

'He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.' Dumbledore added in agreement to Hermione's words.

'Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic!' Fudge empathised the last two words of his sentence in an attempt to make Dumbledore see sense. 'From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions.'

'That's because he was! He killed those people for Voldemort!' Sherlock protested loudly in a tone as though he were teaching a three year old how adding one and one equals two. 'I heard him confess to all of it under the influence of Veritaserum! In fact, six of us did! What more do you want?'

Fudge made to retort to Sherlock again, but this time Dumbledore held his hand up to silence the pair.

'Sherlock is right, Cornelius. Barty did confess to all of events relating to tonight, it was all a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again, and the plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.'

'You-Know-Who... returned? Preposterous! Come now Dumbledore...' Fudge tried to reason, giving the old wizard a pleading look.

'Your stupidity is preposterous,' Sherlock muttered, loud enough for Fudge to hear, he then spoke up in the same obnoxious tone as before, 'what part of _VE-RI-TI-SE-RUM_ are you having trouble with?'

'Now see here!' Fudge spoke clearly, address everyone within the vicinity. 'You can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who is back? Crouch may have believed himse –'

'If Dumbledore believes it's true, then that should be good enough for you.' Sherlock proposed resoundingly.

'You shouldn't allow your trust to rest in the words of a lunatic like Crouch, Dumbledore.' Said Fudge in a withdrawing tone, choosing to ignore Sherlock's words.

'When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup,' Dumbledore began with an exasperated sigh, 'he was transported straight to Voldemort. He witnessed Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you step up to my office. I'm afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.'

'You are – er – prepared to take Harry's word on this are you, Dumbledore?' Fudge threw Harry a fleeting glance. The black dog Harry and Dumbledore had appeared with earlier began to snarl, his eyes locked upon Fudge.

'Why shouldn't we believe Harry?' John started angrily, watching Fudge shift about uncomfortably. 'Professor Dumbledore has heard Crouch's confession, as did Professors Snape and McGonagall as well as Lestrade and Sherlock.'

Sherlock spoke again to help his friend highlight their argument. 'I'm sure the real Alastor Moody could give us a little enlightenment on the matter too, you could've question Crouch yourself if you hadn't have brought that blasted Dementor with you, and –'

'And I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.' Dumbledore finished, his eyes gleamed slightly as he momentary looked at Sherlock.

A small smile played on the Minister for Magic's lips, he gave Harry a passing gaze before replying, 'you are prepared to believe that Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who... well...' He sent another look Harry's way before staring intently at Dumbledore.

A small voice from Harry's bed spoke, making those around him jump in shock, 'you've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr Fudge.' Harry had taken the words right out of Sherlock's mouth, anger sparked up through Sherlock; was this man really that stupid and naive ?

'Surely you don't believe any of it?' John spoke up once more. 'She's a liar! She gets a kick out of spreading lies about other people!'

Fudge was becoming angrier by the second, 'and if I have? If I have discovered that certain facts about the boy have been kept quiet?'

'Like what?' Sherlock and John snarled in unison.

'He's a Parselmouth!' Fudge erupted, turning his bulging eyes onto the two teenagers. 'And having funny turns all over the place –'

'I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?' Dumbledore enquire, holding a hand up as Sherlock and John opened their mouths again.

'You admit that he has been having these pains, then? Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly hallucinations?'

'Listen to me, Cornelius, Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous.'

'You'll forgive me, Dumbledore,' Fudge said harshly, taking a few paces away from Dumbledore, 'but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before...'

'Look, I saw Voldemort come back! I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy –' Harry suddenly stopped talking, staring curiously at the Potions Master.

'Malfoy was cleared!' Fudge conflicted. 'A very old family –donations to excellent causes –'

'McNair!'

'Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!'

'Avery – Nott – Crabbe – Goyle –'

'You are merely repeating names of those who were acquitted thirteen years ago! You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake Du-'

'I propose that you dismiss the Dementors from Azkaban,' Dumbledore cut in, speaking in a loud, calm voice that drowned Fudge's voice out, 'and send representatives to the Giants at once – we must try and gain their loyalty before Lord Voldemort does.'

'Are you insane?' shouted Fudge; his voice reverberated down the corridor beyond the Hospital Wing doors. 'The Dementors are stationed at Azkaban for our protection! As for the Giants, well – you know how the wizarding community feel about them! There would be an uproar if we –'

'I think it is time you left these people to rest, Minister.' Another quieter voice entered the heated conversation as Greg Lestrade passed under the threshold of the Hospital Wing flanked by Sally Donavon and Anderson. Cornelius remained where he stood for a moment, shifting about uncomfortably.

With a sigh, Fudge finally addressed Dumbledore calmly, 'he can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't...'

Silence fell over everyone as Professor Snape strode towards Fudge, slowly pulling up his left sleeve with every step. 'There.' Snape's voice was like a sharp blade cutting through the silence as he showed the Minister for Magic the underside of his forearm where a vivid images of a skull with a snake producing from its mouth squirmed against the flesh – Sherlock recognised this mark to be that of Voldemort's creation; the Dark Mark. Severus Snape branded as a Death Eater. 'There, the Dark Mark.' Snape continued. 'It's not as clear as it was, an hour or so ago, when it burnt black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burnt into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were supposed to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.' Sherlock wordlessly congratulated himself, pleased to know that the hypothesis he had theorised all those months ago were correct.

John held his breath, tension built up inside him – he was one hundred percent sure that the Minister for Magic would have to listen and acknowledge the evidence that Severus Snape had presented to him.

Cornelius turned his disgusted expression to Dumbledore, refusing to address anyone else and finally whispered, 'I don't know what you and your staff are playing at Dumbledore, but I have heard enough,' John let out his help breath in a desperate sigh and his eyes widened in shock as the minister spoke, 'I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.' With a pivot, Cornelius Fudge approached Harry's bed and dropped a bag of coins on the bedside table and muttered, 'your winnings.' He then strode to the Hospital Wing doors without making eye contact with anyone; not even his trusted Aurors.

'Wait!' John called to the retreating back. 'That's two people who have either given you an eyewitness account of tonight's events or evidence to the Dark Lord's return! Also, six people heard Crouch confess under a powerful potion. You can't just ignore it!'

The Minister stopped but did not look at John. 'An old tattoo is barely evidence of _his_ return.'

'But it is!' John counter argued. 'If Voldemort,' John ignore the multiple winces of Hermione, the Weasley and the Aurors, 'is dead, as you believe him to be sir, then surely those tattoos would have disappeared by now, right Sherlock?'

'A spell will be lifted if the castor is dead, providing those tattoos are the work of some form of magic then yes, they would've disappeared over a certain amount of time.' The Ravenclaw concluded, his sharp eyes focused intently on Fudge's back as though he could make the man believe every word with this intense gaze.

'I will not discuss this anymore.' The man continued to stride away, everyone watching him until the doors of the Hospital Wing protected the Minister from their eyes. With a curt nod from Greg, Anderson and Sally Donavon followed the Minister from the Hospital Wing.

'What do we do now?' sighed Ron.

Mrs Weasley, Bill, the black dog, Greg, Madam Pomfrey and Professors McGonagall and Snape looked towards Dumbledore for guidance, knowing that the wizened headmaster would need their assistance from this point onwards, each of them ready to show their loyalty.

'There is work to be done,' Dumbledore slowly announced to the room, 'Molly... am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?'

'Of course you can,' She answered without hesitation and a determined nod, 'he knows what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that had held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride.'

'Then I need to send a message to him. All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and Arthur is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius. Mr Lestrade,' Dumbledore turned to the Auror behind him. 'Will you be willing to help us?'

'I am indeed, sir.' Greg replied readily. 'I will be happy to assist in any way I can.'

'Excellent, I need you to help Arthur Weasley spread the word around the Ministry, suspect that you will know who the most trustworthy of the Aurors are?'

Greg nodded, 'I have a few in mind.'

'I'll go to Dad,' said Bill, 'I'll go now.'

'Excellent,' Dumbledore nodded in agreement, 'tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, as will you Mr Lestrade. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry –'

'Leave it to me.' Bill cut Dumbledore off in a reassuring voice.

'Mind if I go with you?' Greg asked. 'Your father is not a man I am in acquaintance with; I feel that it would be for the best if we work together though.'

'Of course, I'll Apparate us to The Burrow as soon as we're outside of Hogsmeade.' Bill kissed his mother, put his cloak on and bid farewell to the others as he spoke then left with Greg behind him; both speaking in low voices.

Dumbledore watched the two men leave before he spoke to McGonagall, 'Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madame Maxime.'

McGonagall mutely carried out her duty. Dumbledore then turned his watchful gaze upon the school's matron; who had paused by Moody's bed to listen to Fudge's outburst, 'Poppy, would you be very kind, and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you'll find a House-Elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us.' Madam Pomfrey left as Dumbledore had asked, her face lined with confusion but she did not ask any questions. Making sure that they could not be overheard, the headmaster faced the dog and addressed it as though it were another human being, 'And now, it's time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they really are.' His eyes flickered over to Snape for a fraction of a second. 'Sirius, if you could resume your usual form.'

Sherlock watched as the dog transformed into the tattered and filthy man he had met in the cave during their previous trip to Hogsmeade. John gave the man a warm smile and a small wave in greeting; both of which were returned. The only person who seemed to be shocked by the sudden appearance of _"Sirius Black the Mass Murderer"_ was Mrs Weasley; who had given a small scream while she pointed and yelled at the man.

'It's okay, Mrs Weasley!' John called over her yelping. 'He's innocent!'

'But – but it's _him_,' Mrs Weasley had gone very pale, her voice faltered slightly and her eyes bulged with fright.

'He's innocent,' John said again and again while he tried to calm the woman down, he strode over to her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Snape had not taken this reunion well either, he did nothing but sneer at Sirius. 'Him! What's he doing here?' Snape spat at Dumbledore.

'He is here at my invitation, as are you, Severus.' Dumbledore spoke in tranquil tone. 'I trust you both. It is time for both of you to lay aside your differences, and trust each other.' When neither man spoke nor moved Dumbledore continued, 'I will settle, in the short term, for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us.' Sherlock stared between Snape and Sirius sceptically; there was too much history between them to "lay aside their differences", surely Dumbledore, of all people, could see that. Sherlock could see by John's expression that his companion was thinking along the same wavelength as he was, but to the astonishment of the current residents of the Hospital Wing both Snape and Sirius slowly extended their hands and shook; sealing the agreement. Dumbledore beamed pleasantly between the men; he seemed to have momentarily forgotten about the other occupants of the room. 'That will do to be going on with. Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crew. Lie low at Lupin's for a while, I will contact you there.'

'But –' Harry began to protest, but Sirius cut him off.

'You'll see me very soon, I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?'

'Yeah... yeah, of course I do.'

Sherlock had phased out during the short conversation between Harry and Sirius; he thought about how he could help Dumbledore and the others, but he only had a short list of trustworthy associates – John Watson was an obvious one, Greg Lestrade was already aware of the current situation, Hermione Granger's intellect and research skills would always come in useful, he was certain that Mrs Hudson would want to help too, as would Molly Hooper...

'... then good luck.' Sherlock returned to his surrounding as Dumbledore finished speaking to Snape; who was now leaving the room – Sirius had left while Sherlock was in deep thought. Dumbledore cleared his throat, 'I must see the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion. I will see you all later.'

Everyone sat in silence as Dumbledore extracted himself from their presence. After a short while Mrs Weasley began fussing over Harry; who had lent back against his pillows – fighting hard to keep his voice and expression passive. John retreated towards Sherlock's bed – dragging the Ravenclaw forcefully by the neck of his T-shirt as he went – where he watch over his companion protectively. Sherlock allowed his gaze to slip over towards a window where he idly watched a beetle crawl over the window pane... _"'Isn't it funny how there is always a beetle at the scene and then after a few days an article about the event appears?'"_ He smiled, funny how Hermione's voice filled his head at a moment like this... then it hit him.

'Hermione!' Sherlock inched towards the end of his bed and whispered sharply to the brunette witch who was watching Mrs Weasley bother over Harry. 'Hermione!'

'What?' She whispered back, glancing over at Harry, Ron and Mrs Weasley to make sure that she and Sherlock hadn't disturbed them. Sherlock nodded towards the window.

'Isn't it funny how there is always a beetle at the scene...?' Sherlock whispered again.

'I... what?' Hermione eyed him curiously.

He stared at the window and she followed his gaze; finally seeing the beetle. Hermione slowly crept towards the window and snatch the beetle in her fist, but she had accidentally knocked the window with her elbow in the process; making the window shut with a loud bang.

Mrs Weasley; who had been hugging Harry, jumped away from the hospital bed in shock, Ron gasped and John tried to suppress a grin; having watched Hermione and Sherlock's conversation, he had seen it coming.

'Sorry!' Hermione gave everyone an apologetic look. She then bounded over to Sherlock with a gleeful look in her eyes and lowered her voice to an excited murmur. 'It's her! I can tell by the markings!'

'What're you going to do with her?' John asked, staring down at Hermione's clenched fist with a perplexed expression.

'I'm going to make her stop printing those horrible stories.' She smiled brightly.

'How are you going to do that?'

Hermione only gave John a mischievous smile in response then turned to Harry's sleeping form.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_**Author's Note/ Disclaimer:**Went away... magically turned 18... came back home... oh look update... er... I own nothing... J. ... Warner Bros. ... Sir Arthur Conan Doyle... BBC... MOFFAT... er... hasn't been checked by BETAs yet... loads of mistakes... good bits of this chapter were not my idea - NarNar helped me... Hobbits... Ninjas... Wizards... Medieval Princes... TimeLords... Fuck you I won a Bafta... Tumblr... Flying Mint Bunny... hehe._

_I should probably warn you about... Nah. You'll see it when you read it._

_Pretty sure I've mentioned a load of Johnlock before._

_Oh look! You've been warned now._

_Erm... _

_I dunno, you guys make sense of what I've typed, 'cause I'm stumped._

_~ That weirdo._

_**Chapter 18**_

'I don't understand!' Hermione shrieked. 'How could this be possible?'

Sherlock groggily opened his eyes to see the bushy haired girl march stonily down the Hospital Wing followed by John, Ron, Molly and an older woman who Sherlock recognised to be Mrs Hudson. 'Urgh.' He allowed his head to drop back onto his pillow and glared at Hermione for the rude awakening. 'What time do you call this?'

'Half-past ten.' She replied, throwing herself into a chair beside Harry's bed.

'That early?' The Ravenclaw sat up yawning and stretching. 'What's the matter, anyway?'

'Rita Skeeter.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Did she escape?'

'No, she wrote another article.'

'Oh.'

'About you.'

'And me.' John added in a disgruntled tone while Hermione threw the newspaper at Sherlock. Mrs Hudson moved to Sherlock's side and smiled fondly down at him.

'Can I get you anything, Sherlock?' Mrs Hudson offered.

'No thank you,' Sherlock placed an arm around her to let her know that he was thankful that she was there for him. He picked up the Daily Prophet and read aloud. '_"Are the Students of Hogwarts Sherlocked?" _What does she mean by "_Sherlocked_"?' The Ravenclaw's eyes settled on Hermione, Ron and John.

'Don't ask us,' Ron exclaimed in a huffy voice, 'Hermione wouldn't let me and John read it.'

Everyone settled between Harry and Sherlock's beds to listen to the article. Hermione; who had already read it, bit her nails nervously – she may have been friends with Sherlock and John for eight months, but she didn't know how he would react to such an article.

Sherlock made himself comfortable and returned to the front page of the newspaper; only fleetingly glancing at the black and white picture of himself and John walking across the castle's lawn together. '"_Sherlock Holmes has been a topic of interest in the past; during a previous interview it was discovered that his high intellect would allow him to produce highly influential potions such as Amortentia – a powerful love potion. It was thought that he was making these potions to help Hermione Granger enchant two Triwizard Champions; Viktor Krum and Harry Potter._"' Sherlock read in a loud, clear voice to make sure Harry, Ron and Hermione could hear him from the bed opposite him. He could hear movement issuing from behind the curtained bed next to him and felt quite sure that the real Alastor Moody was awake and listening. '"_Every student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should know that these potions are strictly prohibited, but that may not have stopped one Sherlock Holmes. To the untrained eye, the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson would appear to be a normal friendship; however, after interviewing an anonymous source within the school it is now known that the pair skip lessons to enjoy a romantic rendezvous in the school's forest – which is also forbidden to students._"'

'A romantic what?' John snorted through gritted teeth.

Sherlock responded automatically, 'it means meeting or date; basically she's implying tha –'

'I know what she's implying!' John snapped angrily.

'Would you like me to stop reading, John?'

Curiosity made John shake his head, 'no, it's fine, carry on.'

'"_The pair were also witnessed dancing at the Christmas Yule Ball despite the fact that John Watson already had a female date with him._

"_They go everywhere together," States an attractive fellow pupil; Draco Malfoy."I've seen them together, you know, always sneaking around the school. I've caught them at it in a broom cupboard too; I found the encounter to be very scarring. Their behaviour is absolutely disgusting and just plain rude!" But as to what this encounter may have been, young Draco Malfoy seemed adamant on forgetting about it; but surely this concerning behaviour will need to be seen to at once. Another pupil of the school agreed to discuss the topic under an anonymous name, "I've always had my doubts about those two, but no one could be friends with someone as unpleasant as Sherlock without being in an intimate relationship or under a powerful enchantment."_

"_We've complained to the headmaster loads of times!" Says an outraged Pansy Parkinson – another pupil of Hogwarts School. "But he still hasn't done anything about it, John Watson could be in danger of manipulation and Professor Dumbledore is just ignoring it."_

_It appears that the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has failed to investigate previous allegations against the pupils of this school – could this careless behaviour be the reasoning behind the reckless and disturbing behaviour of the school pupils?_

"_I don't think so," Says Zacharias Smith, a bright Hufflepuff student..." _Bright?' Sherlock scoffed. 'I don't think I've ever met a bright Huffle –' Hermione cleared her throat while she eyed Sherlock sternly and nodded towards Molly Hooper. 'What?' Sherlock cocked his head at her.

Hermione shook her head and sat back in her chair. 'Typical.' She sighed.

Sherlock ruffled the newspaper, hiding a small smirk behind it, and continued to read. '""..._Sherlock has always disregarded the rules no matter who enforces them. I dare say it, but it wouldn't surprise me if he ended up in Azkaban for some sort of heinous crime and, naturally, John would be dragged in the midst of it too. Poor lad."_

_It has been brought to light that both Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have added themselves to Harry Potter's closest and most cherished circle of friends – both have shown support to Harry Potter's troublesome actions within the last few months; this includes helping Harry Potter prepare for his Triwizard Tasks and showing support to the violent Half-Giant; Rubeus Hagrid. These examples show that Sherlock Holmes is prepared to drag himself and his partner into a very disastrous future._

_The Daily Prophet had been informed that the disturbed Sherlock Holmes has managed to get into almost every Common Room; including Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. How will the parents react when they discover that Albus Dumbledore has allowed such a troubled child to attend Hogwarts School? Are out children really safe around Sherlock Holmes?_"'

Only silence met everyone's ears as Sherlock finished reading the article, Ron and Hermione shared a tentative glance; both of them waiting for Sherlock or John to burst into a rage.

'Well... that was enlightening.' Sherlock grinned; everyone was shocked to hear amusement in his voice.

'She didn't have anything nice to say, did she?' Tutted Mrs Hudson. 'Have you been upsetting people again, Sherlock?'

'Just a little, nothing out of the ordinary.' Sherlock looked towards John; who had gone silent with shock.

'If anyone is still unsure,' John's voice shook, 'I'm not gay.'

'Could've fooled me.' Harry muttered, more to himself, while Molly and Hermione stifled their giggles and Ron covered his laugh up with a cough.

'Aren't you going to get loads of hate mail for this?' Molly asked after she had managed to calm herself down.

'Probably, but the letters are always interesting to read.' Sherlock shrugged.

'Unless the envelope is filled with undiluted Bubotuber Pus.' Hermione grimaced at the memory.

'I don't think the Howlers will be much fun either.' Ron added, thinking back to their second year with a shudder.

'Howlers are always fun,' Sherlock smirked again, 'I sent one to Mycroft on Valentine's Day last year.'

John's face finally split into a grin, 'oh yeah! He tried to ignore it and it just exploded during breakfast!' The pair succumbed to a fit of laughter and everyone else couldn't help but join in.

'What're you going to tell Mary?' Hermione asked John through hiccups.

'Mary's smart enough to know that this is a pack of lies.' John replied, wiping tears away from his eyes.

'I still don't understand though,' Hermione reached for the glass and jug of water on Harry's bedside table with one hand and holding a glass cup in the other, 'how did Rita write that article? She hasn't escaped.'

'She must've sent it in yesterday,' Sherlock ruffled his hair and yawned again, 'before she came to spy on the third task.'

'Escape from where?' Mrs Hudson enquired; Harry, Ron and Molly also gave her an inquisitive stare.

'Oh! I'll explain it to you later.' Hermione poured some water into her glass and waved Mrs Hudson's question away.

* * *

Sherlock, John, Mrs Hudson and Molly left Harry, Ron and Hermione in the Hospital Wing at midday and went down to the Great Hall for lunch; students whispered behind cupped hands or glared at them as they passed.

'Not hiding in your broom cupboard then?' Draco Malfoy sneered; he was hanging around Entrance Hall near the giant wooden doors that led into the Great Hall with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. 'Or have you already finished your make-out session?'

'Oh,' Sherlock drew level with Draco with an expression of disgust, 'is it free? I thought Pansy Parkinson was in there with her tentacles wrapped around you.' Sherlock turned his gaze to John; who was hiding his face behind his hand and wishing that Sherlock would shut up. 'Looks like we can have our date, after all.' Sherlock sneered at Draco and proceeded into the Great Hall with his small group behind him.

'Well done, Sherlock.' John muttered. 'You've just added fuel to the fire.'

Sherlock shrugged as he offered a seat at the Gryffindor Table to Mrs Hudson. 'I'm not going to let them taunt me.'

'JOHN HAMISH WATSON!' The four of them looked around at the source of the call; Mary Morstan marched between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Tables towards them.

'She doesn't look happy.' Molly whispered, quickly dropping into the seat next to Mrs Hudson.

'She's read the article,' Sherlock warned moving forward to stand next to a motionless John.

'WHEN WE'RE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING ME ABOUT IT!' Mary screamed; attracting the attention of everyone in the Great Hall.

'T-telling you about what?' John's eyes widened in surprise; he had never seen her angry before.

'DON'T PLAY STUPID WITH ME! YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME WITH HIM!' She pointed accusingly at Sherlock. 'YOU'RE ALWAYS LEAVING ME ALONE BECUASE YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT HIM! HE ALWAYS HAS TO BE WITH YOU! EVEN IF WHEN YOU'RE WITH ME, HE'S ALWAYS THERE TOO!'

'Mary, please, calm down –'

'CALM DOWN? DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!' She slapped him hard around the face. 'I DON'T CARE ANYMORE JOHN! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR LIES! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!' Without waiting for a reply, Mary turned on her heel and ran off; wiping tears from her eyes.

'She took that well.' Sherlock commented. 'You're bleeding; by the way, she turned her ring around and slapped you with the stone.' John slowly raised his hand and touched the laceration on his right cheek, and then stared at the blood on his hand. 'Here,' Sherlock grabbed some napkins from the Gryffindor Table and began to clean the cut for John; ignoring the loud murmuring of students around the Hall.

Professor McGonagall hurried towards them and led John out of the Great Hall.

'Stay here, Mr Holmes.' McGonagall called over her shoulder after seeing him start following her and John.

Sherlock managed to keep his face passive as he sat down on Mrs Hudson other side; both Mrs Hudson and Molly had gone very white and they were staring after McGonagall and John.

'He'll be fine.' Sherlock muttered staring down at his reflection in the empty, golden plate in front of him.

'What about Mary?' Whispered Molly, moving her gaze to Sherlock's face.

'She's quite popular; she has many friends who will look after her. Not only that, she'll have sympathy on her side too.'

Mrs Hudson placed her hand gently on top of Sherlock's. 'Are you all right, dear?'

'Me?' Sherlock stared at her incuriously. 'I'm fine.'

George, Fred and Lee Jordan joined them, all of their faces lined with concern.

'Poor guy.' Fred said, shaking his head.

'She could've let him speak.' George sighed sympathetically.

'Women, they never learn.' Lee chipped in, when he noticed Molly and Mrs Hudson he added, 'no offence.'

'I'm guessing you guys have seen the article too?' Molly asked.

'Everyone's seen it.' Fred replied.

'Or at least heard it.' George rolled his eyes.

'Malfoy read it aloud in the Entrance Hall earlier this morning.' Lee elaborated.

'We can get him back for you.' George offered.

'It's not worth getting yourselves in trouble for the likes or Malfoy.' Sherlock started piling food onto everyone's plates to give himself something to do.

* * *

Sherlock slowly walked through the corridors, staring down at the piece of parchment that he had retrieved from Harry's trunk – Harry had told him to use the Marauder's Map after Sherlock had told Harry, Ron and Hermione about the argument between John and Mary. Sherlock leaned against the cold, stone wall in the fifth floor corridor; continuing to ignore the jeers from other pupils as they passed him while he searched the map for John's labelled dot, but he couldn't find it.

'There's McGonagall,' Sherlock muttered to himself, his eyed focused upon the dot labelled "Minerva McGonagall" which now resided in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Other familiar names jumped out at him; Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the Hospital Wing, Molly had taken Mrs Hudson to see Hagrid, Luna Lovegood was in the forest – probably feeding the thestrals again – Irene Adler was in the Slytherin Common Room and James Moriarty was in the Astronomy Tower... what on Earth was he doing up there?

Sherlock's eyes swept over the seventh corridor.

'There's a room missing here.' He pointed at the map as though he was explaining this fact to another person. 'The Room of Requirement doesn't show up on the map! Mischief Managed!' He wiped the map clean, stuffed it in the pocket of his robes and ran towards the seventh floor corridor; pushing people out of his way as he went.

* * *

The Ravenclaw quietly opened the heavy wooden door and peeked inside; the room was small and empty spare one sofa next to a big window where his Gryffindor companion sat in silence.

'John?' Sherlock slowly approached the silhouetted figure.

'Mmmm?' John didn't look around to see who had entered the room; he was so accustomed to Sherlock's voice now so he recognised it instantly. The ebony haired teen sat down next to John on the sofa and gazed out of the window. They both sat in silence while they stared out at the scenery on the other side of the window.

* * *

Mary had not spoken to John since their encounter in the Great Hall, both Sherlock and John received hate mail over their last few weeks of the year – John had not read his, he had taken the advice that Hagrid gave Hermione months ago and burned the letters as soon as he received them, whereas Sherlock opened all of them and corrected the spelling mistakes inside – he'd even made a point of sending the corrections back to the senders.

The year had finally drawn to a close and the students of Hogwarts found themselves on the platform in Hogsmeade Station waiting in the hot sunlight to board the train back to King's Cross Station.

John felt someone tap his shoulder, he glanced around; expecting another student to chastise him about the article but, instead, he met Hermione's chocolate brown eyes. 'I've been looking for you two.'

'What's wrong?' John asked tentatively, unable to tell what emotion she currently held.

'We've found an empty compartment; I thought that you might like to sit with us.'

John looked towards Sherlock, mutely asking for his opinion.

'Lead the way.' Sherlock offered John a small encouraging smile and followed Hermione through the pressing crowd.

'Sherlock?' Mycroft's voice called through the crowd. 'Sherlock, where are you?'

'Who's that?' Hermione asked; looking around for the calling student.

'My brother, just keep moving.' The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes, he'd been trying to avoid Mycroft for a while now; he couldn't be bothered to listen to a lecture about the article, he'd deal with Mycroft at home.

'They're always like this.' John stated wearily. 'Sibling rivalry. You get used to it after a while.'

'Really?' The brunette witch questioned. 'What house is your brother in?'

'Slytherin.' Sherlock informed her. 'You've probably heard of him, he sticks his nose in everyone's business – his name's Mycroft Holmes, I believe he's quite friendly with Percy Weasley.'

'Mycroft? He's Headboy isn't he?'

'Unfortunately.'

'Not anymore.' John reminded them. 'Mycroft leaves this year.'

'Finally!' Sherlock whispered delightedly.

Hermione opened the compartment door for John and Sherlock; who stowed their trunks in the overhead section and they all settled down; Hermione sat next to Ron while Sherlock took the seat next to Harry and john sat opposite Sherlock.

'Molly should be here soon.' Hermione announced as she let Crookshanks out of his wicker basket. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon hooted happily to each other in the overhead section.

'How're you feeling?' Ron asked john.

'He's still sulking.' Sherlock responded, nudging John with his foot in a fruitless attempt to get the young Gryffindor to smile.

'You're not the only one who was affected by the article.' Harry tried to reassure John. 'Everyone's been jeering at me, Sherlock and Hermione too. I don't think they believe us about Voldemort either.'

'Unlikely,' sighed Sherlock, 'they'd rather believe that he's dead. Bloody idiots.'

'I was thinking,' Ron said hesitantly as the group fell silent again, 'seeing as we're all friends now, maybe you two would like to come to the Burrow this summer. My mum won't mind, you can share a room with me and Harry.'

'_Friends?' _Sherlock scoffed. 'Our relationship isn't that personal. You three,' Sherlock motioned toward Harry, Ron and Hermione, 'just so happen to attract trouble and circulate around any mysteries at Hogwarts. It's not my fault that I need to solve these things; you lot keep getting in the way. I'd say that our relationship is strictly a business relationship, it's not that I actually like you three.' The only sound that could be heard within the compartment was the loud chatting and footsteps of the student that passed outside. Harry, Ron and John stared at Sherlock in astonishment while Hermione pressed her hands to her mouth; trying to stile her sniggers. 'What?' Sherlock snapped in her direction, irritated to see the amusement in her eyes.

Hermione moved her hand away from her mouth to grin at Sherlock, 'isn't it obvious?'

Sherlock arched one of his dark eyebrows at her. 'What's obvious?'

'You've been our friend for ages now; ever since you stopped formally addressing us by our last names.'

'I... that... humph!' Sherlock snorted as he folded his arms and glowered out of the window. John smiled to himself; amused to see Sherlock out-witted by Hermione. The compartment slowly broke into laughter – even Sherlock grinned, but kept his face hidden.

* * *

The students of Hogwarts ran through the barrier wall and rejoined the Muggle world in small groups – many of which were saying their goodbyes to their friends or happily hugging their parents who had come to take them home.

'I'll see you in September!' Molly Hooper waved back at Sherlock and John. 'You will write to me, won't you?'

'Of course we will.' John nodded; returning her wave.

'I hope I can stay in touch with you guys too.' Molly added to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

'Here,' Hermione approached the Hufflepuff and handed her a piece of parchment, 'this is a list of our addresses and my phone number. We're always here if you want to talk.' Hermione smiled sweetly at the other girl as Molly swiftly departed.

'Speaking of phone numbers,' John pulled a piece of scrap parchment from his trunk along with a bent quill and a pot of ink. He quickly wrote the same eleven digits on the parchment three times, tore the parchment into three and handed each piece to Harry, Ron and Hermione. 'I want to stay in touch over the summer too.'

'This is for those fellytone things, isn't it?' Ron asked as he examined the numbers on his piece of parchment.

'It's telephone, Ronald.' Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

Sherlock listened interestedly. 'Why not use the Floo Network?'

'Our houses aren't connected.' John explained; signalling to himself, Hermione and Harry.

'Well, just go to the Ministry and have them connected.' Ron offered.

'It's not that simple, Ron.' Hermione rolled her eyes.

'And remember what happened last summer when you tried to Floo to my Aunt and Uncle's house?' Harry added, remembering the chaos with a small grin.

Mycroft walked over to the group and cleared his throat, 'Sherlock, are you ready to leave? You know how mummy doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

'I'll be a few more minutes.' Sherlock replied petulantly. He waited until Mycroft's footsteps faded away until he spoke again. 'And he wonders why our father left?'

'I'm sure you brother isn't that bad.' Tutted Hermione.

'He is.' Sherlock scowled. 'Anyway,' his expression softened again and he began to push his trolley forwards, 'I better not keep Princess Mycroft and mother waiting. See you later.'

John, Harry, Ron and Hermione watched as their friend joined his brother and the pair disappeared in the crowd.


End file.
